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Spiralist

By Elinor Ann Walker

                I find everywhere in nature a well-ordered scheme, where everything, living and dead, fits into some other thing specially prepared to receive it. — James B. Pettigrew

 

            I’m turning into clematis—no,

I’m turning into clavicles, petaled

to sternum.        I’m all mettle

in clinging to form          & twining,

I stem sweetly toward light.            Patterns

on repeat:        here      chambered

heart, ventricular fibers            striated,

there, the most commonly      fractured

bone.    Also, whelk & ram’s horn,

murmuration of starlings.     Nautilus.            

Interstellar nebulae.      Staircase.

My mind         a look out          turret.

 

            I see so far back in time,             

my hamstring’s tightly wound                  nerves

damaged in labor while        my feet

were stirruped;          sciatica

still rings         as dendritic    as agate,

around & down.         My oldest

born with         broken           collarbone.       

Multi-versed              my cells

tendriled         with Ys            from bearing

boys.    Double                       helix.    

              

              I am not singular      in my over-

spinning.         But what if I

            listen:                           allow

                         what’s crooked

to take                                                shape  

            out of                                 

                          air       accept

the form                                  it takes               

 

            tiny curlicue of

                        question          caesura

smoke ring                      

                            what-

            ever                 hangs                                       

or                           echoes

                                    a whip-poor-will's         

            song at night

to un-strand 

           my chimera                              

                               lead her home.

 

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Spiralist - Elinor Ann Walker
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Elinor Ann Walker holds a Ph.D. from UNC-Chapel Hill and is on the poetry staff at River Heron Review. Recent poems appear in AGNI, Nimrod, Plume, Poet Lore, Quarterly West, The Southern Review, Terrain, and elsewhere. Her debut chapbook, Fugitive but Gorgeous (forthcoming), won the 2024 Sheila-Na-Gig First Chap Prize.

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ISSN: 2578-0670

The American Poetry Journal (APJ) is back and online only for now! Theresa Senato Edwards has taken over the reins as of April 21, 2025. Unfortunately, Theresa did not get much info on past submissions, except that all submissions were responded to. She queried about the anthology, chapbook, full-length submissions, and any upcoming online issues; but the same response was given to her: that all submissions were responded to. Theresa was not able to obtain access to the old APJ Submittable account either. She requested access but was told that the APJ Submittable account was unavailable. Theresa was not a part of the mess that transpired from 2022 to 2024, approximately. And she is sorry that she doesn't have additional news about much of the past submissions as well as submission fees. She asked for financial statements but was not given any. For now the website has been updated with issue and review archives, and we will go from there. Theresa apologizes that she doesn't have more to share and hopes that all her literary citizenship and fine literary reputation over the years will help APJ move positively forward, despite all the disappointment. Theresa will try her best to regain APJ's transparency, passion, and commitment to poets and poetry.​

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