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By Myene Trimble Yanu
PREORDER
Out Winter 2026
If a liturgy were common and an incantation prosaic; a fragmented field of memory&dreams splayed upon sterile, dingy hospital room walls, sealed off by a wrestling mat door hinged with velcro. If beauty were encountered in affliction, in signals from deities&saints one no longer abides, but is always with; there, unfailingly present, like summer flies encircling the face. Myene Trimble Yanu’s singular poem Velcro Door Hinge is this.
By Myene Trimble Yanu
PREORDER
Out Winter 2026
If a liturgy were common and an incantation prosaic; a fragmented field of memory&dreams splayed upon sterile, dingy hospital room walls, sealed off by a wrestling mat door hinged with velcro. If beauty were encountered in affliction, in signals from deities&saints one no longer abides, but is always with; there, unfailingly present, like summer flies encircling the face. Myene Trimble Yanu’s singular poem Velcro Door Hinge is this.