Two Poems


Eva Andrea Bertoglio





Ritualistic Fortune



Every way oakly, umber & goldenrod,

rains of ginkgo leaves loosen from unfallow

boughs. I clutch a bundle of coins reclaimed

from a beheaded mystic, they are embossed


with an eye crying singular tears.

I sought alchemic transformation but when

I swallowed my coins I did not become

the gold-dipped woman I had bargained for.


Instead I was a lion soon betrayed by seven

swords, tied to the wheel, turnt as a key

and bled over the fire


— honor the source of your sustainment —





Spiritual Misalignment





What is my most closely held image?


I am small and sitting on top of the ladder

leaned against the carport,

a house two blocks away aflame,

the moon a cruel crescent.


Memories disintegrate

even as they are being remembered.






Can I let go of this image to find God?


No. I will not let go of the images

which turn and return

— they belong to me.






How am I separated from God?


Multiple dimensions where language folds

the word Time into God. I am separated from

others by the river rising rapidly covering my island

body until even my trees are submerged with black waters.



This leads me to the soft pain

of a morally inexplicable cosmos,



Are you brave enough to drown

in love regardless?








Eva Andrea Bertoglio is an artist, writer, and lifelong Oregonian.  Her work can be found in 50 Haikus, Oregon’s Best Emerging Poets, Pom Pom Lit, Unchaste: Volume III and the chapbook First Winter of Persephone. She lives in Portland.