The cafés have a kind
of tea that is just
the temperature and taste
of air breathed in summer
Two Poems by Gary Jackson
Men smoke on Hagwon-ga, eyeing
the dark borders of my body.
Two Poems by Shelley Puhak
I’ve seen and Ginny, darling, I can no longer breathe. I got off
the interstate, cut through an industrial park, throbbing.
Disturbance, Seaside, and Storm: Poems By Dorianne Laux
What were their names?
The ones who left us
willingly, stepped away
from our phone calls
Max Roach & You Are the Carpet, and I Am the Drapes by D.A. Powell & Ryan Courtwright
We turn and ferret,
vengeful and assaulting.
Dear Lady of Perpetual Something by Nick Flynn
Behind my eyes a lake of fire
Behind your head a birdless sky