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Volume 16 • Number 1 • The Resistance Edition

Hannah Bonner

Object of Vision

In the beginning, 
I wanted to be looked at

like fire,
anywhere it is. 

Sometimes, I pulled my mouth
down, sometimes up,

always in dim light, split
and tapered.

Eyes made an orifice of me,
and a metonym,

murmuring, outline, apple, 
open.
 

Gradually, the incurring emptiness rose 
like heat, 

straight to the center
of nothing.

Archaeology

The moon lays down
her lantern at my feet

against the ancient fossils. 
Fern, tooth, snail 

of seas no longer here,
I remember

mineral landscapes,
tented waves,

swallowing stone and light. 

The visible succumbs 
to alteration. 

The alteration is history –  
this in which 

now all at once

folds back 
the wild grasses.

The Ordering of Narrative

Your life doesn’t belong just to you,
you said.

But for a while, I reply,
it did. 

Supernova

Thrust of stars
and a horse spooked by fire, 

besieged by the sun
blacking out. 

The earth turns
and hangs upon nothing. 

Feelings, what are those?

There’s no going 
back. 

Male Violence

Shouldn’t the poem be
longer?
you said. 

It is, after all,  about history. 

Hannah Bonner is a graduate of the Nonfiction Writing Program at the University of Iowa and a 2023-2024 National Book Critics Circle Emerging Fellow. Her film criticism and book reviews have been published, or are forthcoming, in Another Gaze, Cleveland Review of Books, Literary Hub, the Los Angeles Review of Books, and The Sewanee Review. She is the author of Another Woman (EastOver Press, 2024) and lives in Iowa.