Maram Al-Masri Poetry from The Abduction (forthcoming from White Pine Press in Spring 2023) Translated by Hélène Cardona The Abduction refers to an autobiographical event in Maram Al-Masri’s life. When, as a young Arab woman living in France, she decides…
Browsing: Poetry
Elīna Eihmane Night Mommy When darkness falls Night Mommy crawls into your bed with scissors. She cuts your nails and treats your wounds with sea buckthorn oil, she rubs White Flower ointment on your nose so you can breathe…
Dzvinia Orlowsky Our Dolls Were Naked Our dolls were naked, but our cats stayed partly clothed—a ribbon here, a brown felt hat there, two holes cut and fitted for their ears. My sister and I wanted them pretty for…
Maria Mazziotti Gillan Snow Falls Thick outside the windows of Saint Marguerite retreat house. If only my mother had not died more than 20 years ago, I’d call her, tell her, my practical, no-nonsense mother, to stop working…
Lisa Ampleman Unremarkable My deepest sadnesses are completely ordinary. Not the predicament of roundworms as the shuttle Columbia, making its way homeward, is eaten through by heated plasma, leaving their thermos falling solo through the stratosphere. No…
Nicole Brooks The Mother Speaks I shrink to a diamond My daughter palms. I’m squat As the littlest Russian doll. She relishes my dispersion Of light, holds me to the Morning sun. Secures me In a golden ring’s claws,…
Susan Calvillo Urban Legend I don’t make love, orgasm, or stimulate my nipples forget about cuddle napping, doing yoga, or cat cow poses I don’t practice labor positions with squats, lunges, or deep pliés I refuse to sit…
Cheryl J. Fish Abecedarian: Spit Three Times After a compliment, after a friend or stranger remarked how Beautiful, your grandchildren, my grandmother spit three times. Concentrating on our foreheads, saying “poo, poo, poo.” Delivering protection against that dreadful Evil…
Megan Gannon Dispatch from Another Familiar Fairy Tale We did not abandon them there, though it was my idea: the two of them alone together in the wilderness of a Midwest shopping mall at Christmas, not holding hands but…
Heidi Fiedler Selkie Past the wolves, and goblins too, The seals fatten in the sun, Transforming from solid to liquid As they dive through swirls of seaweed. There our selkie swims free. Ebb. Flow. Crash. Want. Need. Love. When…