September 26 – October 2, 2022: Poetry from Samanta Daničić and Grant Vecera

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Samanta Daničić

Samanta is a recent high school graduate. Lives in a small town in a small country and spends her days drafting her CV and yearning for bigger and better things. She loves gut-wrenching beauty, alliteration, politics, and a good pun. She writes poetry as an exorcism: a preventive measure against autocannibalism.

The following work is Copyright © 2022, and owned by Samanta Daničić and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Sunbather

so we swam 
in the muddy river for the kids
braver than i am and
my friends’ voices were a staccato
soaked in ragtime mischief 
with their keen magpie eyes
for anything that glistens 
and right there
enraptured by The Sun
i had a vision 
of my warm blood 
in the sand how it would 
sizzle and crack 
on impact and
soak and soften the grains
someone else would later stand in
i thought
i could be that 
something mushy & sweet 
like the meat
of red-hot cherries
left out 
on scorching concrete 
or soft vanilla ice cream 
melting slowly
in your teeth 
i thought 
yes! i could be those things! 
i smiled 
my friends laughed like church bells
i could hear them 
flittering to and fro
comparing pebbles and stones 
i kept my eyes closed 
i was warm and in my soul
a strange tremor took hold 
it spoke:
my sweet Summer Sun 
i have washed ashore 
can i be your
hummingbird dynamo? 
my sweetpea, my sequoia tree
can i be your
little tangerine? 
my magnificent maverick 
lean down and kiss me
on my pale cheek 
color me orange
please 
i’m yours to peel
whenever you want

Grant Vecera

Grant Vecera teaches writing and inquiry at Indiana University Indianapolis and at Butler University.  His poems have been regularly appearing in various illustrious literary periodicals for the past thirty years.  He prefers bicycles to automobiles, sandwiches to guns, and cats to people (except for his wife and daughter).

The following work is Copyright © 2022, and owned by Grant Vecera and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Burning Money

Wad them up, one at a time,
or tear them into confetti.
The more surface area the better.

After gathering dry twigs—
two fistfuls, as long and thin
as raw spaghetti—
jam their heads together
to make the inverted V
which starts your teepee.

The money is the heart,
the kindling, the sacred
conception
upon which all else ignites.

Leaving one side open,
add bigger sticks, encircled
with a layer of bigger ones.

Now, don’t light the edges
or the top. Go low.
Go for the eye.

Days
Hours
Minutes
Seconds

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