Fog can be an atmospheric condition or / a type of bewilderment— / I am asked to think of ways / In which I can keep it / From settling
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Three Poems by Ceren Ege
My mother chose to place his lungs in rice long before the doctors decided to / tease the tumor. Let the grains pull
out the chicken stock from its veins long before she stopped / cooking. My father was a quiet man.
Spontaneous Abortion by Nancy Beauregard
shut / off the lights climb back / into bed place a pillow / under your knees ask / forgiveness
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Two Poems by Lily Rose Kosmicki
A satisfied end eludes me / The hysteria of locution becomes me / Charred brain crowded and crowned / with fleshy angles feeding / of the mouthparts, crazed
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Thera by Kristian Macaron
I know I am not empty -- life inside me / is grit and blood and a light buried in / sinew which has made me this star
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The Old Country by Michele Popadich
whole plums hang rotund from heavenly branches / puckered fruitless / bruised but beloved on the kitchen table /
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What They Say If You Lose a Child by Kate Stoltzfus
I remember the neighborhood shrieking in summer, / kids dripping popsicles the color of blood onto hot concrete / & wondering how his voice would cut the air / when I finally heard it. You can always have another
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Three Poems by Janice N. Harrington
I am grass and root and loam. A vole tunnels in my throat. / Field mice bed inside my womb. Hair, limbs, / fingers lengthen and rise, lengthen and slender into turkeyfoot / and stands of Indiangrass.
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Two Poems by Natalie Dunn
We would lie on her bed with our legs up on the white wall eating saltines / with butter while we made a list of everything we wanted. / Try to keep your hunger, someone said when she died in the summer. / I ate flour and bone. Measured the distance between two cups on the table.
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The Muse the World Forgot to Name by Mureall Hebert
She paints roses under heavy skies. Purple, / the color of bruised plums. The artistry is in knowing / her audience, their heart-beaten stutter riding / on airbrushed waves.
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Something of Home by Brian Simoneau
When you’re young, cities seem magnificent no matter what. Wide-eyed/ you look up to all the buildings crowned with wreaths of ice, speak fondly/ all the streets, mouth full with knowing This is home.
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Something To Remember Me By by Gabrielle Brant Freeman
I gift you rough ditches / where I search for purple fists / of thistle. I suck hard / the sweet petals like spears / all the way down / to the stinging white heart.
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A January without Heat by Tara Ballard
What is a lover in hat and scarf at the stove when dead / is the roadmap? He asks me for something unexpectedly beautiful, like a poet / might, so I leave my stone home for the garden.
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Only Boats by Colette Cosner
Blank space skips a generation. / I don't know from art or what I lack. At the funeral / her children fought over last rites and good china. / I said nothing, so got only boats.
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Two Poems by Jennifer Lynn Krohn
they want a corpse, / a girl who'll only grow / skinnier with rot. A girl / who will disappear / into a handful of dust.
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Adventures of Ghost Girl by M Jaime Zuckerman
She longs / for the feeling of slipping / between fresh sheets & lying there / like a clean corpse.
Read MoreThree Poems by Sonia Feldman
the small birds stepping like dames / through the green aisles, / and the strawberry plants blushing / on the garden floor-- / I've never known another place / as animal for longing.
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Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.
Two Poems by Nicholas Gruber
i brush my cheek with a lover so bewildered by kissing, he detonates / my clenched gristle instead. in red honey clothes, i am similar flesh / & you know new lovers: always making do.
Read MoreTwo Poems by Robin LaMer Rahija
we forced open small holes and planted / their delicate bodies, covered / the white network / of translucent roots. / We watered them and waited.
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Two Poems by Chris Haven
They are relic and untouchable. They move older than direction, under timelapse skies.
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