Leveler Poetry Journal
About Leveler Submission Guidelines More Poems

No Latin Term




They scoured the map—

thinking their hands capable


of locating

all that was lost.




Cryptic clues led

only to frayed oceans:


blue bodies ringed

with poisonous shrubs.




All day they picked sumac

songs on their guitar


and at night the notes hummed

like flies against meat.

Rachel Morgenstern-Clarren