Poetry by Deya Mukherjee
Cough She coughed a lot in a green coat. That green on most the frightened throb of alcopops, on her an itchy kind of hallucination. Hair fat with the lusty nausea of leaves and petrol, lips the colour of a child’s shoes. The child’s shoes dig the dirt when asked her age. “I’m […]
Poetry by Lauren Suchenski
And glory glory to the word and glory glory to the word named grass to the long opalescent tracks of sunset that streak across your ribs, your bones and all the grazing places where your soul must hide glory glory to the star called sun and all its devastating bliss that wants to ignite the […]
Poetry from Nicole Miyashiro
Yes/No to Neurosurgery for My Son Hell is not a hideous thing. It washes its face and puts on deodorant. It peers over at the clock, which ticks on as usual, and it slides a fresh shirt over its shampooed head. Hell pours flakes and raisins into a cereal bowl without spilling, pours 2% milk […]
Two Poems by Rebecca Macijeski
Death’s First Lesson Death’s small feet hang over the edge of the couch. Her grandmother teaches her to knit, feeding yarn between the needles, always working and passing. Death watches the loops of color slide along the machine of her grandmother’s hands. Soon a pattern generates, astonishing as a tumor or a shroud, and death’s […]
Two Poems from Lindsey Gilbert
Whodunit House Two are striking: grandfather and mantel. The old clock rectifies the new clock’s brain. They’ll be bashing it out if we don’t intervene. We are the constable. Take out your notebook. Under this shade is a lamp with a switch: three clicks for full brightness. Find out where it’s going. Two fans: ceiling […]
Three Poems from wren james
grandma’s house folded palms dance on the hood of the car. drive up to the attic and pull out the sun, drag it out of the house hold it like a host. i give it to you to swallow. it’s fine when we’re together. it drips out your eyes. it sounds out your mouth, but […]
Poetry from Tyler Atwood
another dream about real life I think I look in the mirror & see fading light in the window of the mobile home my father looks across the frozen hayfield maybe if they had made it to spring maybe holes in a shabby pair of Dickies palms blackened by newsprint ice-filled cooler b/c there’s no […]
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