Poetry

  • How These Arrangements Go

    by Patrick Donnelly

    From behind my mask I probably said
    to the clerk the flowers were pretty. Always
    in our village on the blue counter where

    you finish your business with the stamps.

  • A Roman Burial

    by Miguel Murphy

    in him those brave
    translunary things

    Michael Drayton

    1. Police Report

    Not the hustler,
    a boy you’d loved—the Roman
    convicted of your murder

    on the beaches of Ostia.

  • OF THE RING: ZAZEL

    by Caroline Chavatel

    “Impresarios capitalized on women’s growing participation
    in public life as a form of salable novelty.”
    —DR. JANET DAVIS

    How you labored—Zazel, the human
    projectile. Your body flung, a shot

  • Appalachian Marie Kondo

    for Mom

    by Crystal Good

    It took a global pandemic for me to organize my life –
    journals, photos, ideas, mementos, clothes, closets, and junk drawers. 

    I have five bathrooms, a basement, a third floor, and …

  • TO CARLA ONE MORNING DRINKING COFFEE

    by Mary Soto | translation by Madeline Vardell

    This poem was translated from its original Spanish (included below) by Madeline Vardell.

     

    Carla
    this morning I’m drinking coffee alone
    years ago we drank
    coffee and beer in the mornings
    And …

  • The Oldest Story

    by Jenny Browne

    My girl still needs to memorize the prologue
    of Gilgamesh by Friday & so sticks it
    above the bathroom sink & to the window
    inside the old Subaru, repeating weary …

  • From part 4 of Life in a Field

    by Katie Peterson

    In this story, there is a girl and there is a donkey. What good friends they are, and they began as strangers! He has taught her everything she needs to …

  • SPINOZA SAYS

    by Sandra Lim

    He who loves God
    cannot endeavor that God
    loves him in return.

    Do you know,
    I think the cool silver
    of this is hard to live by.

    When there is anything

  • In Case of Fire

    by Shira Dentz

    It’s way past time to start heaving:
    unplug the air boxes in the harmonica,
    bracingly slow,
    “No!” rising from your throat
    like deer across a road:
    there are always more …

  • American Haiku: Far Away

    by Andrea “Vocab” Sanderson

     
    Sunrise on the shore
    Bright fire of a flaming torch
    Beckons me to soar
     

  • To Go to Belfast

    by William Burnside

    Whether you’ve boarded from Liverpool or Heysham
    or Stranraer, years later the journey is the same
    along the Lough at evening, the chimney of the power station

    in Kilroot, Carrickfergus …