Browsing Category : Poetry

The Death of Something Sweet by Temitope Atunrase


We could have tasted like berries, or something sweeter. I started walking, stomach sucked in, I believed you saw magic as I saw fireworks in you. I tried to touch your fingers, the tip of it was an illusion. Because you never reached out I made you up in my head, calculated all your words to mean something like berries.…






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Credo to Leave by JK Anowe


Do not believe what you see on TV   I’m so afraid of being happy it is the closest thing to shame   ……………The world would still have itself   All noise & no sound/all rush & no reaching   If I wasn’t here   ……………A breakfast club between its teeth   I’m reconsidering dying old   Who the fuck…






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Two Poems by Nandini Dhar


Canticle This city’s neon-crafted eucalyptus branches are spears in the sparrow’s eyes. A walled villa whose mistress can’t remember anything other than her own childhood, a highrise-sized fiberglass sunflower adorns its manicured garden, the petals cupping into a plastic-hole for the sparrow to nestle. To be born with a city on my eyelids– a necessary training to stare at everything…






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Collapses of Breath by Robbie Coburn


Riddled with distance……cannot remember the momentary framing of time without this connection the day palls itself against thoughts consistent drive as the imagination preys on the senses……unceasing recollection again emerges……restrictions pulse along the nerve ends whatever passion has exhausted……cannot be revived skin worn by a harsh distance…in the breath dancing across your face where you rest alone        in your body….I…






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Seamstress by Gale Acuff


…………………….. ….. Xuzhou, Jiangsu, China New trousers. I wear them when I walk to the noodle diner. Old wine in new skins but they don’t rip until I sit down. Right up the seam that divides the lobes of my buttocks. I have them mended–for free, from Mrs. Wang, the tailor. Her English is poor. So is my Mandarin, so we understand…






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what if heaven exists and it is by Harnidh Kaur


what if heaven exists and it is just a place where memory is true? where the smell of home is exactly how you remember it, without the decay of age creeping through where the colour of your mother’s hair is still that of a wet sheet of silk soaked in ink that wrote you where your father’s bones are yet…






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Two Poems by Lauren Camp


Much   On that side of the country, we stayed in a home where everyone was happiest. Everyone played with their hair, talked, interrupted, needed minutes of feet in the water. Needed the water dredged every eight days, and swallowed the plot of five movies, and wanted to wear their white shirts. In the big room, a bird twisted his…






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Meditations on the Angel by Meghan Privitello


When you can shoot the messenger and the messenger bleeds light. What a privileged execution. * The hierarchy of pain starts and ends with the body. If the body can believe in ascending towards some impossible sky, it can mutate pain out of the flesh and into a memory of smoke. * Heaven is a privileged institution. All destinies are…






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Catalogues by John Grey


Catalogues arrive in droves. They want me fitted out with hunting rifles, fishing waders up to my knees. They’d have me listen to CD’s of the Four Lads or take home courses in Philosophy. Some even think I’m Joan not John. Hence, I’m let into the secrets of somebody called Victoria. I’ve heard this is all very scientific, that my…






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Photo credit: Alexis Rhone Fancher

Hello Stranger by Cynthia Atkins


It’s me—This voice inside a tin box inside the intention to be a voice of one, but we’re all crammed ………………in traffic—This grid is the lunatic abyss inside a pickle jar. We are lonely in our cars, we are little cubicles of languor. With a smear, I see the Vintage Red vinyl of my mother’s handbag. I hear ………………the marvelous…






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A Junkyard Full of Lilies by Saima Afreen


…of all lights the flicker of a mellow sun is the sweetest unpacked, raw like warm honey flowing on your lips golden. Flickering as the lost faith in fairy tales. A smile your mother played with before burying it in Arabian deserts. The sand glistens in your voice travelling to a wrinkled face fixed on Blue Jays. The soft ice…






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You Have Nothing Less Than That to Say That by Lana Bella


somewhere between the stiff tonic on the rock and crinoline mist blanking the frozen lake, you walked the backwater with wild December strobes traced like fish ribs against the dark. Clay ground hummed through sky’s chalice’s ice, pent in slits where creeping vines pressed themselves with your soles into the bones of every small thing scattered in panic. So you…






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a field of echoes by amu nnadi


… and mind flutters to a close eyelids to slumber all over, a certain darkness emerges earth is populated with nothing but a tempered sigh t night flashes white underwear as meteor, quickly closes her thighs mortified by the radiance of stars she grows shy as mimosa pudica dies from shame of too much conceit from a sprawling field of…






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Quarter Moon by Alan Britt


Today I’m coming back. Like hieroglyphics scrawled upon an overpass, I’m omnipresent. The shadow around my waist expands to include cosmic debris: planetary fragments, clouded leopards looming the horizon, clarinets like loons stretching their necks to have a look. My hand disappears into a void. Like the mantle clock with vermilion smeared cheekbones, or dusty Bose stereo with a mustache.…






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