By Sarah Suhr
Featured Art: “Aria” by Mallory Stowe

   for Patty 

you broke your mother’s ribcage trying  
to revive her bones like a goldfinch 
do not cry daughter oh wisp of breath  
she speaks from beyond her tomb  
keep chrysanthemums & coneflowers  
in each corner of our house & console  
your father with a nightcap westerns &  
puzzles  
        still he cries each year  
that passes & you oh daughter carry  
bouquets & his weight across  
threshold after threshold till he can  
no longer hold a spoon to his mouth 
so you petal chowder to his tongue  
& every swallow is a strangulation 
that stones your heart to silence   
               you 
no longer know where your fingertips 
end & his begin if the sun has risen 
or descended oh daughter are you 
in darkness or light he says this is it 
i am done after dialysis & within days  
his head wilts cold into your palms 
you clear his books from your shelf &  
reshelve poetry found in a storage unit  
your hands hold a collection called  
reclamation but you can’t recall  
how it came to you 

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Sarah Suhr is a Seattle-based poet. She is the author of the chapbook Lies I Tell Myself (dancing girl press & studio, 2018). Sarah’s poems have appeared in American Literary Review, The Normal School, Maudlin House, and many other places. She is an Associate Editor of Poetry Northwest magazine. Sarah has been nominated for multiple Pushcart Prizes and holds an M.F.A. in Poetry from Antioch University, Los Angeles. sarahsuhr.com

Mallory Stowe is a painter interested in the awe and anxiety of the natural world. Her work reflects how systems of memory, whether in the body, the environment, or society, can perpetuate suffering or nurture empathy. Stowe received her BFA from Ohio University in 2022 and her MFA from University of Wisconsin-Madison in 2025.