SWWIM sustains and celebrates women poets by connecting creatives across generations and by curating a living archive of contemporary poetry, while solidifying Miami as a nexus for the literary arts.
The apartment is blue, filled with an absence posing as air. Something like ice pelts the windows. Rupture of morning: thunder rolling in like tanks surrounding a city, and the sky throwing down rocks as the day grays into itself, into whatever version of itself it wants to be. There, already I’ve mistaken storm for story, already I’ve assumed that something that lives in time follows its own syntax. How badly I want evolution. I am alone. The dog curls into a sweetness. I have been here before, I have never been here before like this—sure and boundless and close to happy. It is May, and for days, I’ve been thinking of someone else, the green storms of his eyes. A few glazed lights blur yellow through the rain. It is May, and I know I will never return to you.
Maja Lukic is a Poetry MFA candidate at Warren Wilson College. Her work has appeared in or is forthcoming in Narrative, A Public Space, The Adroit Journal, Colorado Review, and Sixth Finch, among other journals, and "The Slowdown" podcast. She lives in Brooklyn, NY.
