When I come upstate in your third trimester, we take fetch-crazy Otis for a walk; the centimeter gained each week…
Browsing: poetry
My Face, My Face After so long I couldn’t decide whether it was age making me uglier or thick hair…
Oblong in air catapulted into somersault You landed in arms ready to wash the blood from your journey. sniffing me…
The message comes toward the end of a long Saint Joan run, my daughter’s final performance in the title role—…
The thin girl burns calories lifting hangers from the shopping rack, hungry as anyone for a bargain. She is not…
Review by Ellen Miller-Mack – The moment I finished reading Monica A. Hand’s me and Nina, I felt an…
Fishing without a fishing pole is feeling vibration and tug is like playing a harp with the fingers rather than…
Life begins in water. Here, on the gravel beach, where the shifting tides rock clattering pebbles forward and back in…
Reviewed by Carol Dorf – Although it is “difficult to get the news from poems” Amy King’s poetry helps the…
The language of motherhood isn’t equipped with words to express and the lack of control one feels about having a…