Category: Poetry

When our marriage was bankrupt, jobless, holding a sign for donations, when our marriage was a paper plane ablaze, an oil spot, a two dollar bill, when our marriage was a two and six off suit, a house of cards above the fault line, sheets folded in the spare bedroom, when our marriage was an… Continue reading “Euphoria” by Logan Seidl

That summer, eyes lolling over, eight lanes packed and you licked yogurt off my forehead. Ignoring calls from home. In Philly you tried to quit smoking and I spilled my drink all over and we kissed or we fought or whatever. Stale bar popcorn for dinner and the phone just wouldn’t stop weeping. I’d sleep… Continue reading “Summer Poem” by Bob Sykora

Rough, dry hands pull at our necks, our expanding skirts. They tug at the flowerbeds below, sweet and thick, unreleased. Nourishment, a cloud-blanketed sun. We stay in bed like lettuce. We soak heat like a sponge, till we’re too heavy to float. Our loneliness is irony, swollen with greedy buds. Tasting, crunching the earth like… Continue reading “Wet” by Jen Knox

First time I see Joseph Stalin he’s at the pool. He’s wearing an old-fashioned one-piece swimsuit, still has his trademark mustache. He doesn’t stay long, dives in, plays ball with kids for a time, climbs out of the water, and leaves. Next time I see Joseph Stalin he’s in the grocery store, shopping. There’s nothing… Continue reading “Stalin Resurrected” by James Valvis

One Maria orders decaf, the others café con leche. One Maria speaks Portuguese, another Italian, another Spanish, another English. One Maria left her firstborn son in Peru. Another Maria was infertile until her fifth IVF treatment. One Maria has a boy and a girl. One Maria has a dog, whom she calls baby girl. One… Continue reading “One Maria, Two Maria, Three Maria, Four” by Catherine Prescott

i've been sitting here on the sidelines watching you crumble the once steady, solid wall slowly chipping away with every passing minute with every word spoken to you about you at you near you another piece of the facade falls the outer surface long protecting what's inside, what makes you...you coming apart i can see… Continue reading “Watching You Crumble” by Thom Francis

after Ana Prundaru’s photograph, Kamakura Beach in Japan This is pulling out from a different coast     the tides cool a slick back retreating     by now winds have settled     skin is tight with heat and salt     by now light gleaning across surfaces will start to find pattern     how quickly it scatters to multiply     you will try to… Continue reading “I Have Tried to Track This” by Sierra Jacob

I just wanted a migraine pill and a cup of cocoa. Instead, I overheard someone talking about the liquor store about ten blocks from my house. “Don’t even bother,” he said. “It’s so overpriced.” Inside, I nodded, never having been in the store, just aware of how things in our neighborhood were often overpriced, how… Continue reading “The Person Seated Across the Aisle” by Kelsey May