Visions of Home: A Poetry Folio This spring, in print and online, Mom Egg Review and MER VOX consider the many facets of HOME. The poets in this folio explore, among other issues, the mother’s body as home,…
Margaret Rozga Home in the Nick of Time Mid-sentence we rise from park benches, mothers, nannies, grandmas, and call children down from their climbing. Starlings flutter, lift off power lines, sparrows flit into the brush, tufts from the cottonwood…
Pramila Venkateswaran History of my Suitcase I drag the large green suitcase from its corner, clouds of cobwebs and dust rising from it making me sneeze. Peering into its dark emptiness, I hear Amma’s quiet words, smell incense and sandalwood,…
Melissa Joplin Higley A Mother’s Lament He knew her as the beginning. A union of bodies divided into another, then replicated exponentially; he grew inside her. Soon, his heartbeat patterned hers. He came to know her murmurs and sighs,…
Ann Farley Bare Legs on Warm Wood A Visit to Stony Brook Wildlife Sanctuary Ann Farley, poet and caregiver who lives in…
Jennifer Schomburg Kanke The House of Never Enough 1. Architect I am a brick wall of want she knows she’s not a wrecking ball strong enough to take me down She is the one that built me and in…
Tezozomoc Tezozomoc is a Los Angeles Chicano Poet and 2009 Oscar Nominated Activist and has been published by Floricanto Press, Gashes!: Poems and Pain from the halls of injustice, a collection of poetry. He has also been…
Jane Yolen Mysteries Birth is not mysterious to the mother whose body is cradle and cafe. Who listens for breath, feels a whale swimming in the sea of her. She sends hand signals against her skin, is rewarded with a…
Brad Shurmantine The Big Yard Stunned, still moving in a sick green haze my widowed mom stared at a sea of blueprints and chose the one with the biggest yard, a field big enough to swallow up our pain…
Jendi Reiter Broken Family Couch I miss the neighbors who used to jump shirtless on the trampoline in the bramble woods they didn’t own. October, early, the sun is mooning through the fog, translucent disk, surprise of perfect geometry.…
Nicola Waldron (29205) there was a woman who lived in a house of wax when she came home from teaching children to speak who had never before spoken she would feel the walls of the house the doorknob to…
Libby Maxey Contrafactum “Every house has its particular orchestra.” —Sylvia Townsend Warner in the woods, a bear bell’s chunnering drone the flickers’ enfilade in the garden, a chiming gamelan wind wash in the leaves inside, outside’s company now that…