UNTITLED ART by Anna Hardy

ODE TO THE JOYNT by Steve Merino

Behind me there’s a jukebox           playing Motion 
         Sickness, pool balls           scatter apart, a bottle
shatters           at the bottom of a trash can beneath
         the bar. It’s strange, the commotion           of colliding 
sounds; how everything suddenly           feels crowded, but 
         I’ve come to understand           congestion from rivers; 
I’m most content           hiding in the middle of a crowd.
         There’s a group of regulars           sitting by the window, 
a pitcher of beer           sweating between them & the one 
         in the Packers hat           keeps looking, I swear, 
into my past, trying           to figure out if he’s seen me 
         before & maybe           he has. I come here every time 
I’m in Eau Claire. Maybe I           remind him of a brother 
         who left one night & never returned or           an old friend 
forgotten to time. The bartender           takes my order 
         & tells me their vision           is slowly deteriorating. 
I just nod & drink. Don’t tell them           mine, too. Lately, 
         I’ve been hiding wasps           in laughter & my eyes 
are mirrors. Another           round of whiskey as 
         the bartender wipes           the inside of a glass, looks 
at or beyond the door, confess           they hate this place
         which I both do & do not           understand; I’m starting 
to hate every place I go, but not           the way these
         bar stools wobble or           how the stickers collage
the mini fridge under the taps.           Loneliness 
         is a tricky thing. I can’t stop            thinking 
of all the hands that           have touched this bar 
         & how those hands           take traces of this place 
with them when they go. Look,           I should say,
         a little over a year ago I           drove my brother & all
his things to DC & recently           I drove there again
         this time to bring him home &           of course
we talked politics & how           our mother started smoking 
         again, but I didn’t ask if he was ok or           what happened 
& maybe there’s a sort of wall           I constantly build 
         to keep people I love           away. Now he’s back 
in St. Paul & happy, but           I’m still worried 
         about distance & what is lost           in silence & I keep 
thinking of this goddamn bar           & all the things I have 
         & have not           touched.


Steve Merino (he/him) is a poet from St. Paul, MN. His work can be in the Under Review, perhappened, and others. Full publications listed at https://linktr.ee/steve_merino. Follow him on twitter @steve_merino.

Anna Hardy is a 19 year old artist currently studying fashion at the Manchester School of Art. Her work primarily focuses on portraiture whilst having undertones of fashion to it. She hopes to continue doing her digital drawings to develop her skills and continue selling prints of her art.