Issue 1 Available Now
It’s finally time. Introducing the debut issue of Sumac Literary Magazine, “Embark,” created by students of ENGL 4135 over the course of the winter 2023 term. It features 26 works ranging from prose to poetry from members of the Carleton community. Read Letters from the Editors.
A comfortable place in the unconscious
Can one dream while lying awake? This proximity of cloud. Consensus, the end of parenthetical. Draws curtains, threat. This pragmatism: my mother gave birth to it.
A Yellow Carnation
A month ago / my boyfriend gave me a carnation / I didn’t want it / but now I’m stuck with it // At first / I thought maybe I wanted it / most women love carnations / but the more I thought about it
In the Weeds
I met you on a Tuesday / Lost in the woods / And your dandelion-seed touch / Set my worried mind free / While my body turned to dead weight / In a broken lawn chair
Mannequin at the Thrift Store
I found a mannequin at the thrift store today. She was tucked in between a box of junk and a ratty old sweater, only the top of her dull head sticking out amongst the mess.
Thirst
A Microsoft 365 subscription costs 179 dollarydoos, equating 15 / pints per annum. Therefore, you should stay / on mine, even though I’m more than / antipodean.
Wet Gore
One must imagine, the Kayal that flows to the sea, / to be pristine, to be untouched. / Allowed to be. / but we wade, you wade, / not you, you will hear. / The sounds of feet, / sinking, caressing, / mud and glass / mud and glass, / the lurches of a crowded train,
Centipede
I fought with you again last night. // Your mossy curls, longer now, / hang from tired branches and sway / in stagnant wind, distorted. / Your decrepit dance in stale air / still beckons for dormant woods
Curiosity
Upon the steps of the mighty Parthenon, so stood Polias, the high priestess of the Greeks’ golden age: poised tall, with a spear in hand, exuding her wisdom to a crowd of eager Athenians. “Curiosity is a magnificent tool. The wise Athena favors those who strive for knowledge.
God-Eaters
I am walking to the bus stop / when I come across a dinner party / I was not invited to. // A meeting of like minds, / yellowed legs, / and ringed bills. / They watch me like hunters tracking prey.
I Am Writing About God for Some Reason: Ramblings of an Atheist in Crisis
Sometimes, I think there’s a god. Drowsy and with eyes half-lidded, I’ll make my way to the bus stop. Under the glow of a sunrise, I’ll pause to stare at the scripture posted on telephone poles, stapled on top of missing cat posters and ads for cleaning services. In the middle of the empty sidewalk, a few cars drive past, and with their headlights illuminating the dim dawn-soaked paths, I’ll read those holy pamphlets.