RELIEF

When the elbow sinks
in and the muscle releases its grip

When the radiators begin to hiss
on an early January morning in Minnesota

When the unleashed
dog smiles back

When the anger leaves
your body even for one breath

When you touch the contours
of my face

When you tell me
I could be a real girl

When the wings we grew together

under the cold shine
of a winter full moon

finally lift us
up and out

About the author:

Amy Nash has lived in every northern state between Massachusetts and Minnesota except for Wisconsin and Michigan, resulting in brackish poetry that mixes the Mississippi River with the Atlantic Ocean and everything between. Her poems have appeared in a range of journals and anthologies, including If Bees Are Few: A Hive of Bee Poems and The Heart of All That Is: Reflections on Home. Amy has given readings on Minnesota Public Radio and at a variety of venues and events regionally and nationally, including Bowery Poetry in New York City. For 12 years, Amy worked in book publishing for several presses, including Oxford University Press and Yale University Press. She is currently marketing and communications manager for MSR Design, the Minneapolis architecture firm responsible for the design of Open Book (a literary and book arts center), Mill City Museum, and more than 250 libraries.

A person with short, spiky hair wearing sunglasses and a black jacket, smiling softly while standing in front of a beach with gentle waves and a cloudy sky.

Part of our Summer 2025 Issue. New stories, poems, and essays now through August 31, 2025.

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