
Vol. 3, Issue 12
“There was brutal honesty in the words of Mari Pack, about her disabled body moving through an abled world. The systemic oppression faced by bodies not perceived as ‘normal.’ In ‘The Cost of Things: On Illness and Privilege,’ Pack’s father begs: ‘Please,’ he says. ‘Be kind to my daughter.’ There was anger in Erynn Porter’s pieces: ‘To be chronically ill is to be vulnerable…out of focus.’”
-A. Poythress, Review of Her Plumage from Quail Bell Press


Martha | Poetry
you unknown root my wild card I had you, old woman with still-dark hair squatting by the wood stove hardly glancing at the tiny girl, the post-war baby. my daddy told me we were Blackfoot from you. so in cowboy games I wore backyard feathers. later in his dream west...