“A tennis shoe, which is John Harvard’s.” by Alejandro Aguirre

A tennis shoe, which is John Harvard’s.

Patina is a bloom, is phallic on a rub or splendid, not both not both a shoe and shoo, mankind a shiner. The floor where foot is is a love of forearm if love wears short sleeves or away at. Perhaps is ambivalence if does these things over with papers. A snow covers the room outside with piano keys. What genre is the song that plays unaccompanied. Alone is the toe of tuberculosis that is thought one’s own. This is not so. Suppose instead many toes gaunt with youth in their sockets, many staring shoes pointing at an aspen line. Suppose a brittle dexterity in a yard and suppositions do little to until made to. Why tennis.

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Alejandro Aguirre was a finalist for Nimrod’s Pablo Neruda Prize in 2025, and his poems are also published in RHINO, Rattle, Hampden-Sydney Poetry Review, Denver Quarterly, and elsewhere. He teaches literature and creative writing in Miami, FL.

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Carly Brammeier is a 28-year-old creative force from Florida, recently relocating to Chicago with her boyfriend, Brennan, and her cat, Shabbi, for no more reason than the drive to pursue a lifestyle change. She is usually a writer, is always a Beatlemaniac, and was born a Libra. She has no published work, but updates her Substack account as often as she can with short fiction, poetry, and speculative essays. Carly is exploring film photography and filmmaking as new creative hobbies lately.