No hunter’s home


Still, the river runs.

Blind to blood—


but if not the river,

you will lick


the furrows

in the earth hollow


because hunger,

because the golden of


your apocryphal

stories, hand-in-hand


our daughters, sons

who’ll never come,


a gun between you

and all I have


banished. Consider—

I will spin you red


under my fingers,

hold down each


godforsaken bullet

you want to use


in the mouth

of the unarmed sky,


firing until

the blues melt crimson


and nothing else

can be shot.


At the end of this

we will starve,


our children’s hands



but gunless.

CLAIRE S. LEE is a student from Southern California. Her writing has been recognized by Tinderbox Poetry Journal, Ringling College, and the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards, and can be found or is forthcoming in Alexandria Quarterly, A-Minor Magazine, Noble/Gas Qtrly, Rising Phoenix Review, Blue Marble Review, and *82 Review, among others. She is the Co-Editor-in-Chief of COUNTERCLOCK Journal and an editorial intern of The Blueshift Journal.