Tell Them (the song all of me sings) by Meghan K. Strapec
I’ll alight on this wing,
my own song to sing,
til darkness makes its call … Continue readingTell Them (the song all of me sings) by Meghan K. Strapec
Category: Poetry
Remembering Yorick by Elizabeth Sylvia
Often, at home, I unpinned Yorick’s bells and put them on myself, taking a bit of laughter’s weight, for being teased requires greater patience than you think. … Continue readingRemembering Yorick by Elizabeth Sylvia
“I Don’t Know Anyone in the War” by Karen Schubert
Walter Cronkite ends the news with the number of American & Viet Cong dead, so older girls in bell bottoms fear for their boyfriends and brothers … Continue reading“I Don’t Know Anyone in the War” by Karen Schubert
Two Poems by Darren Demaree
I tend to see horses on the second floor of this new house, which we bought with money that wasn’t ours … Continue readingTwo Poems by Darren Demaree
Four Poems by Elle Shim
The Moving Man Said This house is haunted, and then he sat down my couch.He said it casually, like a comment on the late Octobersnow, heavy and wet—perfect for pining aloneover a man who will never come to the door. Perfect for wrapping blanket upon blanket and pretendingthe warmth is
Three Poems by Tim Suermondt
King Sing Street No king has ever walked the streetor sung there, but it does seem regal,nestled in royally outside the blue house that has become a historic landmark,even if only known by a handful of citizens.Students from a local art school draw the street and the house with precisionand
“Windowsill” by Carrie Jewell
Out of one window you can see a whole pasture, waving, the name of which I’m not sure I ever knew. … Continue reading“Windowsill” by Carrie Jewell
“Stetson” by Rikki Santer
They say Custer died in his cattleman-creased Stetson. My Annie Oakley knock-off from the local K-mart suited me just fine. … Continue reading“Stetson” by Rikki Santer
“Ode to a Lawn Sprinkler in Contoocook, New Hampshire” by Suellen Wedmore
I believe in permanence,your brass head whirlingdroplets into the seared August air,without complaint or growing pains, sans giggles or adolescent drama,but I also believe in the slippery childskipping now through the rainbow miston a green New Hampshire lawn, impermanence boogying beneath you,sprinkler, in her red bathing suit,this one, thin-strapped and
Continue reading“Ode to a Lawn Sprinkler in Contoocook, New Hampshire” by Suellen Wedmore