Monday, December 5, 2022



Someone playing flute, the music coming from
an open second-floor window,

sky overcast, and we’re in front
of a mulberry tree,
its leaves wet. I need to memorize

the kind of tree it is, a way
of hanging on to this moment.

It’ll be on a test, the one in which I’m likely

to forget what the tree’s called and so
start to lose my connection to the memory, maybe
to memory altogether,

the first loose thread unraveling.
Flute music woven through the branches

and our conversation.
I wonder who even plays flute anymore
but I’m grateful. Love will be

on the test too, or is it the test itself? Love

when the answers
aren’t easy. Love when it’s not all new.


Brian Satrom is the author of the poetry collection Starting Againpublished 

by Finishing Line Press in 2020. His poetry has appeared in a variety of journals 

including Cider Press Review, The Laurel Review, Poetry Northwest, Rattle, and 

TAB, which nominated his work for a Pushcart Prize. His work has also featured 

on Verse Daily and Vandal Poem of the Day. After completing his MFA at the 

University of Maryland, he lived in Madison, WI, and Los Angeles before settling 

in Minneapolis. His website is


We loved reading the work that we’ve published (clearly), and we want an 
opportunity to better hear our contributors. We're featuring audio recordings of 
poems from our pages, read by the poet. This an open invitation to all contributors 
from any of our issues, we were delighted to print your work, now we’re eager to 
hear it.

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