Ania Chromova Translated by Ali Kinsella untitled the old lady on the street offered my children some candies: are they yours? how darling. why only two? have some more. just two or three more. and make ‘em just as…
Browsing: Poetry
Jane Muschenetz DomestiCity When I close my eyes, the dishwasher sounds like a train on tracks. I am transported from Kitchen to Poetry As a child, I dozed on Soviet trains my American kids were soothed by cars Some mothers…
Dzvinia Orlowsky Newton’s Cradle “You have to love a nation that celebrates its independence every July 4th… with family picnics where kids throw Frisbees, the potato salad gets iffy, and the flies die from happiness.” – Erma Bombeck 1.…
Mother in Objects – A Folio of Prose and Poetry Our latest Mother Figures folio depicts how objects evoke the mother: our writers explore, in prose and poetry, concrete representations of the essence of a remembered parent. Karren Alenier –…
Patricia Carragon i’ve put on my mother’s shoes & walked on city streets crossed asphalt & cobblestone gutters climbed various staircases to subways schools jobs apartments sometimes took elevators when available i felt the leather tighten heard soles sigh pain…
Linda Lamenza My Inheritance When the relatives drank the last drops of Crown Royal Whiskey, my grandmother washed the bottle out, soaked it until its label fell off. Polished, etched crowns surrounded its neck, diamond patterns made a crown, the…
Deborah LeFalle untitled haiku grandma’s yukata hangs in the tiny closet where her scent remains Deborah LeFalle is a former college educator who started writing in her retirement. In addition to writing she enjoys engaging in the arts,…
José Edmundo Ocampo Reyes Poem with the Yellow Pages and Rotary Phone for my mother Only the woman’s hands and last year’s phone book, resting on a wooden surface scarred and stained by past projects, are visible in the video,…
Martha Webster The Mourner’s Office I waited on a seat of oxblood velvet in a bay window above a raining courtyard. His coat hem swept the floor from the mirrored door: his last appointment. My purse, a pouch of Krugerrands.…
Lisa Hase-Jackson Her Own Girl Lisa M. Hase-Jackson’s debut collection of poetry, Flint and Fire, was selected by Jericho Brown…