Hunger—a porch light, lights off, light on, lights by Gina Barnard

The night before he died, he spilled a can of peaches on the linoleum kitchen floor. After wiping the spill, it didn’t come clean. He had ordered cleaning solution to get the stickiness out. He had called a number. The cleaning products came in a box weeks after he died. On a porch, burning lemons, bonfires.

Gina Barnard’s poems and essays have been published in Columbia Poetry Review, VERSE online, Laurel Review, New Madrid, Web del Sol Review of Books, Kartika Review, Asia Literary Review, Poetry International, in Japanese translation in Poemaholic Café (Tsukuba, Japan), and elsewhere. She is a co-founding and senior editor of The California Journal of Poetics and has been a contributing editor for Poetry International. She was born in Fussa, Tokyo and spent her early years between Japan and the Sacramento Valley, California. She teaches composition and creative writing and lives in San Diego, California.

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