Browsing: Poetry

News
Poem of the Month – May 2022

Jane Muschenetz Lviv, Ukraine Long before Reuters and BBC reporters signed off from it, Lviv, Ukraine was my hometown, I knew it by another name—Lvov, Ukrainian Republic, USSR is, like anyone’s childhood, I suppose, a dot on the map…

News
Poem of the Month – April 2022

Karolina Zapal My Future Daughter During Adolescence My mother is crazy She passes out copies of her favorite poetry to us every morning with toast. She says I am just like her We both stick our noses in our…

Poetry
Jessica Cuello

Jessica Cuello These epistolary poems are written in the voice of Mary Shelley as she addresses her dead mother, the writer Mary Wollstonecraft. Wollstonecraft died 10 days after giving birth. Mary Shelley’s father, William Godwin, raised Mary with unusual strictness…

Poetry
N.F. Kimball

N.F. Kimball “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” THE BURIAL I had a dream once, of my life standing still. I saw behind closed eyes the Earth forgiving me, the parts of my being…

Poetry
Chrissy Martin

Chrissy Martin SUMMER ARTHRITIS LESSONS My mother slips a careful sock onto my feet, and even though I am 27 and perfectly capable of dressing myself, I let her. They are excessively thick and knit for July heat,…

Poetry
Chloe Martinez

Chloe Martinez SEASCAPE “Juego de manos (Hand Play), Juchitán, Oaxaca” [Graciela Iturbide, photograph, 1988; Philadelphia Museum of Art] …

Poetry
Tzynya Pinchback

Tzynya Pinchback A SONG FOR DESIRE Before the knowledge of pain, man heard the call of sugar. Skin of innocence shed, Eve built an altar to sugar. I plant one thing of beauty in my garden, no nightshades, a…

Poetry
Heidi Seaborn

Heidi Seaborn SEARCHING FOR SIGNS OF LIFE, A ZUIHITSU ~for Audrey Rían Even in the sluggish hours, I listen for signs of life. And when the moon clicks into the night sky, I hear it calling. According to NASA,…

Poetry
Sheila L. Carter-Jones

Sheila L. Carter-Jones HOW A BODY Get your wife a little something the rich lady said at a rest-stop along the turnpike, when my father chauffeured her all the way to the nation’s capital. He picked out a porcelain boxer…

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