Featured Poet Kevin McLellan

Kevin McLellan is the author of Hemispheres, Ornitheology which received honors at the 19th Annual Massachusetts Book Awards, [box], Tributary, and Round Trip. He won the 2015 Third Coast Poetry Prize and Gival Press’ 2016 Oscar Wilde Award, and his writing appears in numerous literary journals including Colorado Review, Crazyhorse, Kenyon Review, Sixth Finch, West Branch, Western Humanities Review, and others. Kevin is also Duck Hunting with the Grammarian Productions and he lives in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Find out more on his website.

THE ESTATE

Night wanders
permanently
and I can only think about
sliced apples.

Or willingness.
The meat separated
from the skin
and I squeeze my lip

in lieu of seeing this hay
being put down.
“Forlorn” I was told
and “too soon.”

By night we’re separated—
so I will one day.

QUEER

i. tethering

He uses a rope
for a belt. The rope-
wearer once

welcomed
my attention. Tethered
I find myself

uncoupled. Instead
Look what I made
(and after each make

another make) and
so the propagation
though artifacts

aren’t artifacts unless
they’re found. Right?

ii. the jacket

I must acknowledge
the red within
apart from the other

colors (and then the
surfacing?). I put on a red
jacket and a voice said,

Please stay. But no one else
is here. I lied. The jacket
wasn’t red. Once a boy

in a small town
the people whispered
and I believed them.

Ever since I record words
instead of speaking.