February 21-27, 2011: Antonia Clark and Farida Samerkhanova

Antonia Clark


Bio (auto)

Antonia Clark lives in Winooski, Vermont, and works for a medical software company She is co-administrator of an online poetry workshop, The Waters Recent poems have appeared in The 2River View, Anderbo, Apparatus Magazine, The Cortland Review, The Fox Chase Review, Soundzine, Word Riot, and elsewhere She loves French food and wine, and plays French café music on a sparkly purple accordion.

The following work is Copyright © 2011, and owned by Antonia Clark and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

French Exit

It’s how I’d leave you–

still studying the card
in my hand, the waving
white hanky,
when I’ve already
pulled off the sleight,
slipped out the back.

For now, I use my art
to make you believe Nothing in my pocket Nothing up my sleeve.





Farida Samerkhanova

Bio (auto)

Farida Samerkhanova lives in Toronto, Ontario, Canada Her letters to the editor appeared in the magazines Elle Canada, Canadian Stories and Canadian Immigrant During the years 2007-2010 her poems, short stories and essays were published by more than 40 literary journals in UK, Canada, USA and Turkey Farida has new work accepted for publication byby De La Mancha, The Mellow Neurotics Magazine, Erbacce, Enhance Magazine, The Ambassador and Knobl Press My work is translated into Russian, Tatar and Serbian languages She is participating in a documentary film titled “Her Choice – Hijab and Beyond the Dress Code”, which is currently in production.

The following work is Copyright © 2011, and owned by Farida Samerkhanova and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.


A so-loved-by-you maple leaf
Beautifully falling down onto the driveway
Mercilessly reminds me of the minute
When you gracefully cut off connections
With this disturbing world
On a very unexpectedly unhappy October day
Causing no trouble to anyone and
Leaving a train of precious exalted
Memories in my devastated soul


Overdose of Life

The weight of red brick is almost six pounds a piece I lay hundreds of them during the day At night I drive home and dream of
A quiet family dinner with candles and TV
Instead I find my common-law wife drunk, as usual,
Lying in the grass in the backyard
In her silky skirt and top, an empty bottle nearby She looks at me and gives me a tipsy smile
I lift her up and carry her inside She seems to be lighter than bricks I change her dresses and cover her with
A soft white duvet to keep her warm at night
I take two dozen sleeping pills and go to bed I close my eyes My girl is beside me In the morning she will wake up I will not God bless her.


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