Issue No. 15, Winter 2015

Madonna of Das Kapital
Virginia Konchan

God, I miss the Stone Age, danger:
samurai sword at my lily throat,

dragon breath burning me
down to sackcloth and ash.

Tell me, dandy, did you try
Marx’s Linen Coat on for style?

Ink to Paper; Dairy to Meat;
Virtue to Vice; Petrol to Diesel;

Destiny to Fate; Phallic wand
to Fertility cult; our crop circles

and isosceles triangles
drawn so tenderly.

Poet maudite of the loaves
and fishes, multiplying

as a only a precursor
to genetic biotechnology

can do, meet your paraclete:
the Encyclopedia Brittania,

Fleur-de-Lys at the end
of the signifying train.


Virginia Konchan is the author of Vox Populi (Finishing Line Press) and a short story collection, Anatomical Gift (forthcoming, Noctuary Press). Her poems have appeared in The New Yorker, Best New Poets, The Believer, The New Republic, and Verse, her criticism in Boston Review, and her fiction in StoryQuarterly, Requited, and Joyland, among other places. Co-founder of Matter, a journal of poetry and political commentary, she lives in Montreal.