Poetry

Seeing as It Is

Poetry by Ocean Vuong

In the hospital room’s white
indifference, a small girl waits
while gloved hands unravel layers
of gauze from her eyes.
She will see for the first time
the objects we’ve limited
through naming. The gauze. »

Three Sorts of Madness

Poetry by Matthew Ostapchuk

I.
Beside the boulevard staircase
a sepia flower woman sits, sells
stalks for a nickel, answers you
vacantly, the way a cat might
or mightn’t. Looking at her sideways
one can tell she’s tatters and. »

The State of Red, A Poem by Mandana Zandian

Editors’ Note: Back in their spring/summer issue, The Atlanta Review brought us “the very first poetry from inside the pro-democracy movement in Iran.” We asked the editor, Sholeh Wolpé, if we could reprint a couple of the poems.

And then she said yes! This is the second of those poems. »

Douglas Kearney Discusses the Page Versus Stage and other questions from The Black Automaton

I wanted to go back to the lab, and try to write poems that would demand the eye, demand a reader. And not only demand it, but reward it.

I’m not even going to lie to you; I want to be a poet people remember.

It is totally possible that one day I’m going to feel I’m sick of writing about black face and minstrel shows, and race, and I will write a poem about seeing my wife coming out of the swimming pool.. »

Religion, A Poem by Amy Motlagh

Back in their spring/summer issue, The Atlanta Review brought us “the very first poetry from inside the pro-democracy movement in Iran.” The spring issue contains a powerful, moving, and devastating collection of poems. In fact, we asked the editor, Sholeh Wolpé, if we could reprint a couple of the poems.

And then she said yes!. »

Sixteen Gauge

Poetry by Alyssa Ogi

My grandmother could not understand
why I’d want metal shoved through my ear cartilage,
the first in family history with intentional holes.
I said “there’s no. »

Shooting Ladybugs

Apá’s voice pierces through the front door, as we play outside
on the porch taking turns letting a ladybug crawl inside our palms.
Apá is in the kitchen with Amá, screaming about how Mr. Craig,
whose house he painted the exterior of, refuses to pay. . »

What I want it to be.

Poetry by Sam Corbo

It is the day after the storm,
a broken tree is outside
our window. It has cracked,
its insides struck black.
It is torn and. »

2 Poems by Michael Meyerhofer

THE REVISION

I decided to take your advice
on my poem. The penultimate stanza
has been shifted to the end.
I now describe the Jehovah’s Witness
using third-person. »

Prayer for My Fiancé before His Bachelor Party

Poetry by LaToya Jordan

Our Father, who art in Heaven,

However he be: drunk, sober, slipping strippers dollar bills, belligerent with a large group of men who look like him, I pray the Lord his soul to. »

December

Poetry by Kristine Ong Muslim

This cold has taught me
about the nature of souls.

Although I have known
a long time ago that the body
is meant to be a sieve. »

Cormorant Complicate

Poetry by Talia Reed

at 5:30 in the afternoon she fumbled out of the dark bedroom,

into a kitchen.
an example of highly unusual fauna.

she googled the word. »