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83 A Van Nu Po
Santa Fe, NM, 87508
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Mud City is an online literary journal promoting the ideals and vision of the Institute of American Indian Arts (IAIA) Low Residency MFA Program.

One Poem by Jennifer Elise Foerster

Jennifer Elise Foerster’s first book of poems, Leaving Tulsa, was published by the University of Arizona Press in 2013, and was a Shortlist Finalist for the 2014 PEN Open Book Award. Jennifer’s work has appeared in numerous journals and anthologies, including New California Writing 2011 and Sing: Poetry from the Indigenous Americas. An alumna of the Institute of American Indian Arts and the Vermont College of the Fine Arts, Jennifer has received a Lannan Foundation Writing Residency Fellowship, and was a Wallace Stegner Fellow in Poetry at Stanford University from 2008-2010. Of German, Dutch, and Muscogee descent, Jennifer is a member of the Muscogee (Creek) Nation of Oklahoma. Jennifer lives in San Francisco, and is also pursuing her PhD in English and Creative Writing at the University of Denver.  Photo Credit: Richard Bluecloud Castaneda

Jennifer Elise Foerster’s first book of poems, Leaving Tulsa, was published by the University of Arizona Press in 2013, and was a Shortlist Finalist for the 2014 PEN Open Book Award. Jennifer’s work has appeared in numerous journals and anthologies, including New California Writing 2011 and Sing: Poetry from the Indigenous Americas. An alumna of the Institute of American Indian Arts and the Vermont College of the Fine Arts, Jennifer has received a Lannan Foundation Writing Residency Fellowship, and was a Wallace Stegner Fellow in Poetry at Stanford University from 2008-2010. Of German, Dutch, and Muscogee descent, Jennifer is a member of the Muscogee (Creek) Nation of Oklahoma. Jennifer lives in San Francisco, and is also pursuing her PhD in English and Creative Writing at the University of Denver. 

Photo Credit: Richard Bluecloud Castaneda

 

Catch


From the dark wave 

glints

            the first star’s fin

 

Long cast,

   your silver line 

threads the river’s

   mouth shut 

Two hawks lash

     in the wind’s net –

    

listen to the distance 

they weave in the air 

 

     between them 

Your reflection

 

pulls against the current. Fast

flash of clouds,

aluminum fish

 

Hawk-clawed, your catch 

slips,

 

drowned in the reeds –

    You swim

wide-eyed, suspended

 

One hawk’s cry fades –

 

   dusk. Then rain

    

In the waning light

  reel in your line,

 

walk into the pines at the outer bank