Poetry

  • Wanda Vibing

    by Margaret Ray

    Wanda has moved beyond collisions and is looking
       for vibrations. The lab’s cat makes too much static,

    so they nudge him gently past the door.
       Wanda thinks about what cats are …

  • Nursing

    by Jessica Cuello

    The midwife kneeled beside me
    and when she stroked my thigh

    on the toilet seat I noticed the image
    of a baby tree, wavering in the deep-

    rust stain of the clawfoot …

  • To The First Speaker

    by Derek Mong

    You—who are kin to all clans;

    You—who called the rain       we’ve been drowning in for eons;

          did you flinch to find   a shard …

  • The House at Christmas

    by Maureen Boyle

    Its wide dark eyes–
    the picture windows of a 60s bungalow –
    reflect rooms in black lakes
    cold and mirrored as though slick
    with tears and ice.

    Early, before the day …

  • Blue Sky MRI

    by Julie Morrissy

    they leave me in a lino-cubicle
    another bargain blue basket
    for my bra and jeans
    I pace behind the curtain
    let the liquid settle

    the doctor tells me to …

  • On the Tallest Horse in the World

    By Stephen Sexton

    Mirrors are not occult with bedsheets,
    no communion of pipes and tobacco:

    there is nothing— farewell Big Jake, alas—
    nothing here approaching a wake.

    I thought of him over …

  • Losing ‘Great White Egret’

    by Moyra Donaldson

    My memory’s erratic and tonight
    I can’t locate your name – four syllables
    just out of sight, hiding amongst the reeds

    Bird out of place, you were a wonder.
    I watched …

  • Autumnal Equinox

    Julian, CA

    by Angela Narciso Torres

    this urge to drive somewhere—what is it?

    from a fast window, even brown grass

    looks exciting. rolling into town, the smell

    of burnt apples. grandpas, babies, tattooed

    teens squint in harsh sunlight as if …

  • Here

    for Padraig Regan

    by Paul Maddern

    Here is the inventory of stone I
    could not bring myself to make
    and instead I have simply
    photographed where stones have
    been left on turned …

  • The Mother of All Parliaments

    by Leontia Flynn

    ‘The Mother of Parliaments’
    is having a nervous breakdown
    as we gather your things
    switch off and leave the house.

    The trees shake in this storm
    as the day shakes in …

  • Mélopée

    by Matthew Ryan Shelton

    One may speak, one may not speak.
    One may speak, one may bespeak.
    What if we are two if we are one.

    One may see, one may not see.
    One may …

  • Ode to My Leopard Print Coat

    after Neruda

    by Carrie Etter

    If there must be
    winter at least
    I will wear this
    leopard print
    cape of a coat,
    thick faux fur
    smelling of dried
    jasmine and sweat,
    drawing friends near
    to …