the beams of our house are silver
                                                                        our rafters are brass

                                                                        rain our steel drummer
                                                                        when we play across the tops of bottles
                                                                        we invent an organ inside an organ
                                                                        fireproof maybe melting
                                                                        cracks in our windows made
                                                                        by parabolic words tossed
                                                                        at high velocity our house
                                                                        could not cage them
                                                                        they broke through glass
                                                                        leaving leaks of clean wind

Maya K Lowy is a ginger and a wanderer. Since getting her B.A. in linguistics and creative writing from NYU, she is, for the foreseeable future, untethered. In the meantime, you can find her work in publications such as West 10th, the Portland Review, and the Headless Society’s Guillotine—and she can be contacted at

“My current favorite sharp object is a ceramic knife. It chops beautifully and need never be sharpened. Also, it is badass.”

Back to Issue 1: Sharp Things

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