Sherine Gilmour Good Days Is this a good day? What is a good day? I think this is a good day. I do not know, and I am sad that my son has a mother who can look…
Browsing: Poetry
Joan Kwon Glass I Ask the Pearl Diver to Bring You Back From the Dead Joan Kwon Glass is author of How to…
Dara-Lyn Shrager Twenty-One My child no longer calls this place home but my name is mother. I drive toward his apartment in the metal north, into the clang of a city with its trapdoors and sooted drifts. A…
Sarah Dickenson Snyder What is Unseeable and Real That vibration in the space between me and someone I love or maybe not love or maybe not even know, like a stranger sitting next to me on a plane and…
Rebecca Brock Chocolate Heart, Valentine’s Day 2018 Unfurling small fingers, loosened with sleep, I find a fistful of melted chocolate—a heart: heated, sweet. I am careful. I warm the water, fold the cloth, and try to clean the cup…
Lorraine Currelley A Woman’s Legacy ancient women dream of love, passion, tender touch and thirsty kiss. we’ve known murdered rainbows and aching bed. there is no escaping naked heart and mourning. this legacy we carry as women. we know…
Skip Renker A Widow Honeymooning near the rim of a volcano, who wouldn’t catch fire? She laughed when he re-phrased St. Augustine: “Better to marry and to burn.” She stopped smoking. He didn’t. In restaurants, diners at other tables…
Christine Stewart-Nuñez Excess Rex My preschooler fears fire, typhoons, and lightning storms. He doesn’t chatter about the Prairie School gas station we scrutinized on vacation; he asks about the wildfire described on the plaque across the street. The burn…
Ann Fisher-Wirth Lebkuchen There is more and more I tell no one Jane Hirshfield Once a week, my mother brought me home to make Lebkuchen, my passion all that fall because it would ripen while I was gone…
D.O. Moore Mother’s Day Visitor My hours hover in abeyance—not the hummingbird suspended in a C before my window’s trumpet-flower feeder. Instead your pause, assessing me. You, turquoise purse and heels, waiting for me to sleep or at least consent…