Surrealist Prize Finalists



Nokomis Groves by Meg Kelleher

Who would I be if fear were not
my twin? Still me, still dreaming

of wasted oranges? Sore & sour
as sweet long untouched,

but for the branch and its pinched
calculations—each limb here cups

an untapped sun. Daughter
of red tides, of coasts painted

in pain, I was hatched
to be cross-hatched, a stitch

drawn in my skin. & from it
the line is juddering

to the peach-cheeked squatter
who shows me life

is but a license for haunting.
She mutters, You're the child

you lost. A mystery, a hide
to tear into with my teeth. I trap

what's left in the heat
of my palm: a dimpled skin

in my fish-shape that turns
over & will not heed my calls.

So all my silver will spill on sand,
unclaimed. Who would take me

when the light gives itself away?


David Keplinger

"The Immortal Jellyfish"



Yessica Martinez



Annika T.

"Fire, Our Lady of Paradise"


L.S. Klatt