Tag: Poetry

The Negative

Poetry by S. Wilson Collins

Since junior high I watched
the gym rats toss iron

in the room with mirrors
for walls –
where weights whirr


Poetry by Juris Edgars

We collapsed like gods: turned over on our sides, heaving up
the belief we had in ourselves. We woke one morning
and became aware that we only believed that we believed,
and then just laid there.


Poetry by Shannon Eddy

The best meatloaf sandwiches
Are cut in threes,

Sectioned off pie charts
To be eaten,

Under stone trees
Pre-staged stages,


Poetry by Stacie Leatherman

The current had arrested me,
strong arms around the waist. It’s slow panic
to be the quiet, steady, struggling thing
in the water, eyes slits like the sunset behind,
like a bear whose floes have all melted except one.


Poetry by Phillip B. Williams

Riding home, I spotted a wolf
dead on the road’s shoulder, a streak
of blood gossiped that it had been dragged
from the highway’s flat, black portal and back
onto the thin dimension splitting asphalt and forest.

Ritual of Salt

Poetry by Abigail Templeton

A former lover enters my apartment window and says
“You always did look better in blue.” He starts taking
photographs of my surroundings—an obnoxious habit.
It is night and there is no one left on the block except
him and me, this former lover who is a gate that won’t close.


Poetry by Melissa Carroll

The seatbelt clicks as we listen
to sweet crushing water under tires,

headlights flicking in puddles
where strangers safe in steel shells
intersect and continue moving.

Restraint is the New Black

Poetry by Eric Steineger

It’s out there alright, wafting through yards. Making its way
to the pit of your stomach. Perhaps if it were a chainsaw
you’d jump. Not just an aroma. It could be a tiger’s eye
a girlfriend once gave you. Or maybe the object in question is
too wide for a pocket, like a photo album that constellated

Ghazal (left behind)

Poetry by Lisa Cheby

Peeling apples meticulously, each skin intact, left behind.
Except for the seeds, you devoured the cores, not even extract left behind.

The turtle knows patience. Her movement unheard in whirls of chaos.
She emerges with stillness, the ebb of the Pacific: left behind.

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 falls,

Three Sorts of Madness

Poetry by Matthew Ostapchuk

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 forgotten.