We’re rounding up

our (plastic)

armies—

our wounded soldiers

with their

bionic           limbs

to our woven queens

stapling       on

their           silicon

breasts

and (plastic) noses.

We keep   their     bodies

on ice/            carbon   dioxide

in preparation

for global

warming (apocalypse).

An age of             rubber (plastic)

will cover the

earth.

The                                                   surgeon

(plastic)

has the    touch          of

(G O D)—

worship in the

factory/operating room/p(p)i(l)n(a)e(s)w(t)o(i)o(c)d box.

Melt down the

ashes

into

(plastic) toy guns

for our      children.

Yes. Oh. Oh.

You were born from

sweet, fruited wines            and

concoctions of hopsandbarley.

Ah. Yes.    Yes.

You were conceived   from   the

faults of   latex .

Oh. There!   Yes!   A h !

You were produced

on f l o w e red bed sheets

seen through

shadowed light—

reflection cast through a smudged

mirror.

God is hidden inthe bedside table.

I’m close! Ah. Oh!      OH,

Child—

You bear no resemblance to

your father.

Barstools by Austin Ward

chicago 100 by Hannah Bell

Untitled by Christian Geisler

Untitled (Wonder Bar) by Christian Geisler

Climber by Steve Hoenstine

Drawing by Raisa Cheng

Driving Lessons by Kyle Smith

Kass by Sarah Spidle

Nubble by Lydia Ann Stern

Perspective by Michelle Lynch

Piracy by Ian bates

post-racial dogs have already figured it out by Steve Hoenstine

sentinels by Steve Hoenstine

Toby by Lydia Ann Stern

T-rex by Lydia Ann Stern

2007 cover

YorkReview2009