Samantha DeFlitch

Consider This

Samantha DeFlitch is the author of Confluence (Broadstone Books, 2021). Her poems have appeared in New England Review, The Missouri Review, Colorado Review, Four Way Review, Appalachian Review, and On the Seawall, among others. She is a 2025 Artist in Residence at Acadia National Park, and she has received fellowships from the Vermont Studio Center and the Martha's Vineyard Institute of Creative Writing. Her work has been supported by the Bread Loaf Environmental Writers' Conference, the Audubon Artist Residency at Hog Island, and the University of New Hampshire, where she completed her MFA. She lives in New Hampshire.

Oz Hardwick

Minor Figures in the Big Picture

Oz Hardwick is a European poet, photographer, dabbler in sound, and academic by accident, whose work has been widely published in international journals and anthologies. He has published ‘a dozen or so’ full collections and chapbooks, including Learning to Have Lost (IPSI/Recent Work, 2018) which won the 2019 Rubery International Book Award for poetry, and most recently Retrofuturism for the Dispossessed (Hedgehog, 2024). Other awards include the 2024 Charles Simic Poetry Prize and the 2024 Dolors Alberola International Poetry Prize. At time of writing, Oz is Professor of Creative Writing at Leeds Trinity University. www.ozhardwick.co.uk

Nancy Sobanik

I Knew

I was a sinner by seven.

The pool and I both opened

that summer, sparkled like crystal

in my mother’s jewelry box.

I'd sneak into her room,

rope on pearls until one day a string

popped, sending a meteor shower

to ping the floor.

Pool water bubbling through the filter

made me press palms together,

leap when no one was watching.

I knew when the sparrow-wing

of my foot hit and rolled in the shallows

it was just desserts,

my parents too busy on a holiday

of rye highballs to get it checked.

A bony knob grew like the bud of a horn,

purple, the color of my crime,

and I was doubly glad for summertime

and my escape from shoes.

I knew better than to cry, Papa always said

Children are to be seen, but not heard.

I knew when x ray eyes of grown-ups

squinted, a birdlike tilt of the head

held sway until I could

Cross my heart and hope to die

then ferret away,

but deep-down I knew

it was a matter of time before

I'd wrap wrists with forbidden bangles,

sample fire and ice lipstick,

guzzle RC cola straight from the bottle

then put it back in the fridge.

I knew I’d jump again, sometime —

drawn to flash and shine,

recreate the moment I knew

hollow bones of a sparrow-wing

are built for flight.

Nancy Sobanik (her/she) has work curated by MacQueen's Quinterly, Synkroniciti, Anti-Heroin Chic, One Art, Triggerfish Critical Review, Sparks of Calliope, Verse-Virtual, Sheila-Na-Gig, The Ekphrastic Review, and various anthologies. A Best of The Net Nominee 2023 and Pushcart Nominee in 2024, she was awarded second and third place in the Maine Postmark Poetry Contest 2023 and 2024. Her chapbook The Unfolding, a finalist in the Open Chapbook Competition, will be published by Finishing Line Press in 2026. She currently works as a Registered Nurse in Maine. Visit at Nancy Sobanik on Facebook. Bluesky