Brenda Cárdenas WHAT A MOLCAJETE HOLDS Despite my drawers full of knives and spoons, cutting boards, spatulas, ceramic…
Browsing: Poem of the Month
Aimee Suzara First Ultrasound of a Trickster What did you sound like, that first time? A flutter: the wings…
Sati Mookherjee MY DAUGHTER THE TREE My daughter was born the year she turned fourteen, the year I…
Donna Vorreyer MAKING TEA, I REMEMBER A LONG AGO SUMMER Honey hanging from the thickened dipper becomes a stream…
Tamar Jacobs GOOD WHOLESOME AMERICAN THING I sat away from the street on a curb mostly hidden behind…
Jennifer Barber Writing Too Fast, I Write “Thew” for “The” As if you and I commingled +++++++++in the dark…
U-Meleni Mhlaba-Adebo Life Quiver I think I felt my daughter speak to me whisper her presence in the depths of…
Hilary King Investigations Are you watching your sad detective show our daughter asks us each evening. Sad L. A. detective,…
Dayna Patterson Gertrude on arte materna Published in MER 21 Note: The poem is published…
Glenis Redmond Setting the Table Mama hands me fork, spoon and knife as she circles the table I follow…