Catherine Esposito Prescott Palm Blossoms From down the block they look like a layer of snow. Hundreds have fallen from the palm tree, flowers white and yellow- green, round, orbital like planets from another galaxy with tens of…
Browsing: Poetry
Allia Abdullah-Matta Allia Abdullah-Matta is a poet and teacher-scholar who uses creativity and artistic expression as instruments of social justice activism and transformation. She is an Associate Professor at CUNY LaGuardia, holds a graduate degree in Africana Studies…
Jen Karetnick Brief Portrait of Millennials as a Nebulizer; Or, There Are Reasons to Breathe Without disruption, without deliberate thought. Without disconnection like a dropped call on a highway far away from a cellphone tower. Without asking permission…
Maria Mazziotti Gillan Even After All These Years Even after all these years, a plate of spaghetti gives me comfort, the food my mother made three times a week when I was a child in the 17th St.…
THREE POEMS FROM REBECCA FOUST AN AUTIST’S MOTHER REFLECTS afraid to die before you but in this wild dark New Hampshire meadow fireflies glow like downed pulsars all incandescence like your face & no trace of errant gene or…
THREE POEMS FROM ANGELA NARCISO TORRES LILLI’S URN Jolted awake by a flash— a text from my college freshman awake in his dorm at 2 a.m. I rub sleep from my eyes, find an audio clip he’s written for…
TWO POEMS FROM DAYE PHILLIPPO SOON, SPRING Snow is falling softly past the windows, no wind to drive it, so the flakes take their time, turning, some rising a bit again like the clouds of gnats one sees…
TWO POEMS FROM STEPHANIE NOBLE UMBILICUS Umbilicus, long since buttoned, now invisible, a tightrope I walk, no safety net one misstep a fall from grace. COURTSIDE Perched on bleachers we watch our grandson, Number 22, and…
Devon Balwit MENTATION On the bus, I talk to myself, reviewing the day’s tragedies. For each humiliation, I shake my head like a dog clearing mites or like a person battling Parkinson’s. The oddness intensifies as I throw up…
Karen Rile RUNNING ALONG THE SCHUYLKILL My daughter skates faster than I will ever run. I struggle to keep her in my line of sight as she strokes past the boathouses. Men my own age follow her with their…