
Hit by a Car
Lying against asphalt
I feel
for where my head
struck. I can’t
find the curb
or mother
holding my fingers
her tears seeping
like exhaust.
Someone pulls me
from the dream
of riding
a winged horse
into an ambulance.
I am the siren.
I give
the attendant
the address
of a dead aunt.
Brain Dead
Rain drops
from the sky
in a flurry
of exquisitely wrapped
parcels.
There is only
so much air
you can hold
in your closed
hands before
it escapes.
Your warm breath
trails behind
at the end
of the evening
like the fine tracing
of a woman asleep.
✶✶✶✶

Originally from Los Angeles, Susan Cobin lives in Lexington, KY. She has published poems in dozens of literary magazines, including The Malahat Review, Kayak, Poetry East, Permafrost, Cimarron Review, and Michigan Quarterly Review. Her poetry collection, What You Choose, was published by Broadstone Books in 2024. Her chapbook, The Man Who Loves His Life, is forthcoming.
✶

Sujash Purna is an American poet and photographer based in Madison, Wisconsin. He explores themes of abandonment, subconscious, and nostalgia in his work. His editorial photography has been published by Nustar, Bold and Beyond, and L’Attirance. His visual art photography appeared in literary journals such as The Ilanot Review, Mud Season Review, Welter, Kansas City Voices, and more.
