Two poems by John Dorroh

Freeze
by Amanda McLeod

What Shall We Do While We Wait?

Bourbon doesn’t help me any longer,
nor does digging behind the barn for
bones. I wonder what they do with
the bodies? The reporters seldom talk
about that.

Whispers are useless, stopping mid-air
like birds shot down from the sky. Sentences
never glue themselves together any more.
Paragraphs are on lock-down. Think of the stories
that won’t get told.

I’m counting flowers today, including the weeds
in my census. I chronicle every life that I find.
Detach a bee’s stinger and praise it.
Look in your compost. There are novels in the
coffee grounds and rotting things.

My ear is to the ground this morning. I hear
the rumbling, the tumbling ghosts in faraway
lands, the cries of my brothers and sisters, the
anguish that curdles blood more easily than
milk left in the sun. They are everywhere
I look.


Coming to Terms at Hungry Creek

all life ends at hungry creek,
its dirty waters patented for
disillusioned dreams, like you
will get out of here alive. no

one survives past the barricades.
the boulders themselves are enough
to put civilization on hold, alter
its numbers. brain freeze.

we sprang forth from living
waters, caramel afterbirth,
swaddling clothes in a conven-
ience store bathroom stall. trashed.

insure your doubts with whole
life. term is temporary like breath.
place bets now. two-dollar qui-
nella. horse race mentality.

i don’t know what to tell your
kids. the creek is more turbulent
today than it ever was. perhaps
teach them to pray deep. and wide.


Sometimes John Dorroh finds himself unable to write a single line for a new poem. When this happens, he doesn’t panic. Instead, he pulls poetry books from his bookcase and reads. “It always works,” he says. “I imagine poets reading their work to me, and I let it find a place to rest in my soul.” His poetry has appeared in about 60-70 journals, including Suisun Valley Review, Dime Show Review, North Dakota Quarterly, Selcouth Station, and Red Fez. He also writes short fiction and the occasional rant.


Amanda McLeod is an Australian author and artist, with a penchant for wild places and quiet. Her work has appeared in many places both in print and online, and she received a 2019 Pushcart Prize nomination from Ellipsis Zine. Her work has been shortlisted in several writing prizes, and won the 2018 Marjorie Graber-McInnis Short Story Award. She is Managing Editor of Animal Heart Press.