The Fish Hatchery
My but we were lovely, captives
and all. Each day the witch
would dress us up. She was keeping us
for herself.
My but we were lovely, captives
and all. Each day the witch
would dress us up. She was keeping us
for herself.
f she were someone else’s sister
I’d again make her mine,
twist her bones
Mocking Heart Review – Vol 8, Issue 2: https://mockingheartreview.com/archives/volume-8-issue-2/dianna-mackinnon-henning/ There’s only one stonethat matters. Cushioned in mudand clay and seaweed,it feeds on dreams. In the sludgeof spring’s first run-off,a hand might reach down,lift the nearby weight of one,skip it across water’sirrepressible bone. Whohas picked such a stonefrom amongst the many? And why that one? I…
Join us on Saturday May 6 at 4pm for a poetry reading by Lassen County poet Dianna Henning and El Dorado County Poet Laureate Lara Gularte. Dianna MacKinnon Henning has taught through California Poets in the Schools, received several California Arts Council grants and taught poetry workshops through the William James Association’s Prison Arts Program, including Folsom Prison. Recent Publications: MacQueen’s Quinterly; Artemis…
1 This is my cutting board. These are my hands adept at cutting. This is my chicken whose neck I’ll sever. My cutting board floods with new geographies. I pluck my fingers of blood. Who knows a woman’s aim when she swings? The word-hands of the world lay wreaths at the serifs of despair. Who says …
I wish I could tell you more about the man
bent over the drawing of his daughters
Sofi and Sonia, how like Saint Bartholomew
in Rembrandt’s painting, the man becomes so intent
that his pencil is now another finger,