h o m e........
p a s t   i s s u e s....
s u b m i s s i o n s....
l i n k s








To blue to vi-: blue-
green to blue to bru-: to blue-
green to mor-: to to-

tality: into                                    
the range, coming from and be-
coming unto an-

other entity:
here is the evening: sky
blue-green cut with milk

and the horizon,
what seemed never and ever,
here now, depth heaving

up from its own edge:
the sum of all you have ev-
er loved, rounded up.





Immersed: a-sea, seam-
stressed, diseased, seanced: the e
escapes me when I

choose to see sea as
a fragment, at a distance—
becomes a c: scale

calcifies—salt: yes-
terday afternoon I found
out about the rest

of my life: I found
a thread I’d tied, somehow, in-
to a knot was it,

is it, or is it
color I’ve found, a hue I’ve
roped, I’ve netted: yes—

day afternoon is
several months deeper now:
now I’m the sea now

the distance now the
roseate tide pool now the
channeling tow, tow.





What blue is nause-
a: going to watch whales: waves,
I was told, and so

I have prepared breaths:
KitchenAid, friends kept swearing:
I won’t say I spoke

the soft peaks into
being the way the sea shores:
here you are: say when.





How to be one’s own
in-laid grit and then to pearl,
be infinitive:

to be betrothed, be
oceanically affi-
anced, be ivory

foam trousseaued upon
the rocks and gauged with jewel-
full pools: to have blushed

violet, held blue-
green to blue under blue through
the tides’ white tilling:

to have happened to
be bird-lit at the edges
all the while: tear here.



BIO: Ida Stewart is the author of Gloss (Perugia Press, 2011). Her poems have appeared most recently in Still: the Journal, Connotation Press, and the Tusculum Review. She lives in Haverford, Pennsylvania, and teaches writing at the University of Delaware.


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