Poetry
by Agnieszka Filipek
My father had a collection of butterflies. First he put the pin into the thorax, then on the edges of the wings and dried each butterfly in the sun on ...read the full piece >>Poetry
by Sushma A. Singh
In bits, in steps heavy with things named-unnamed; her tender tilt on a twirling earth. In the lake of her aura, with light and shadow unfolding their ...read the full piece >>Poetry
by Avy Gdańsk
leaves: a name that is meant for departure tree: a solid thing to turn into when bothered trunk: a person once hiding from body root: a wooden tool ...read the full piece >>Poetry
by Binh Anh Khoa Ngo
My mother tells me time and time again That when her breathing stops and eyelids close, That when her body must heed Fate’s command, I am to let it ...read the full piece >>Poetry
by Jane Yevgenia Muschenetz
No one knows anyone in this city. Let’s not get existential, I’m talking about the neighbors again, the time-lapsed way we’ve watched their children ...read the full piece >>Poetry
by Abdullah Jimoh
At the shed-kitchen in the backyard, while cooking, the poem begins with the voice of my father — archeological, narrating my biography. Digging up ...read the full piece >>Poetry
by Nicole Pisani
so much depends upon the rhinestones doja wore to the met — forgive me for I’ve erred, lucifer . it was schiaparelli, they were crystals , and I ...read the full piece >>Poetry
by Martina Natale
i. Every morning, when the sun is still more spirit than light, I’m roused from my rest in the wake of hymns and birdsong. I have been waiting for an ...read the full piece >>Poetry
by Caroline Kuba
You can almost watch them colonize your kitchen. Filling up the space. Indecisive of where to go. better wait for the dust to settle — until you take ...read the full piece >>Supported by:
