Category: Poetry

Sarah Belli “The Famous Taxidermy Winged Kitten” art by Viktor Wynd Why would someone steal you?I ask, your mouth wide, waiting for a scream to shrivelthe matted fur, discolored like a rotting orange plucked,  left on my counter. I’d put it in my mouth, an orange slicemolding between my cheeks, hoping it will breathe if I suck…

Christian Paulisich It was far too hot in that barn           with billy goats and ducks,                     teacup pigs and humans to tell just how many men had fingered           condoms in their pockets, tractor keys,                     and tickets with their scalloped edges  like cut up paper people; how many           first kisses were to be had on the Ferris wheel,                     seats sticky with vanilla ice…

by Lilith Acadia My 岳母 yuèmǔ visited here, bearing 波羅麵包 bōluó miànbāoand memoriesof her childhood home like this one,built when the city was Japanese Taihoku;the door locks reminded her—she reached to twist the tiny screw,to extract it from the carefully aligned mouth and slide out into the garden— she missed her pondthe size of eight tatami mats, drawing her afterschool…

by Aether I stand in the corner of my aunt’s kitchen watching her red fish swim tinylaps around the blender, cerulean plastic rocks cradle the blades. my mom calls me her son. my grandma introduces me asher grandson. I haven’t told anyone my secret yetbut maybe they can see the difference. when my mom tells…

by Sacha Bissonnette And what do we do to feel safe ?We cut out pounds of our own flesh for dowry, for position, we give up sensibility and carve out pieces of bone, pounded into flour, and then we hope, we hope that our forearms can still knead. And at that Sunday market, I will sell…

Maryam A. Ghafoor I read anotherpoem written by a white person about race. On a walk, I look  down and see not a lake, not a reflection of myself, but this snake we found, black and green, white garter, curledinto itself for warmth, half-tucked into a pileof leaves on the sidewalk. Not a great choice, I think, and don’t…

by Safa Hijazi Kãf-Ha-Ya-’Aĩn- Ṣãd. كٓهيعٓصٓI. On the floor, I wake to a nightly impulse; I listen to Surat Maryam then Ave Maria Then Surat Maryam again. Hail Mary, Hail Mary I kneel at the edge of my bookcase. Our Lady of Lebanon stares at me. Mary? Can you hear me? Is it wrong to…

by Hali Sofala-Jones “We envision a world where wildlife and humans flourish together.”–Zoo Atlanta, Vision StatementSometimes I wonderif the little girls from that dayasked their mothers whythey couldn’t go inside the restroom–the one marked with a bald figure in a dress, pointing the way–the shape I’d been born into,and still, never quite enough. Do they…

by Reynie Zimmerman You’re a guest on a famous podcast. I’m listeningafter reading my poetry in a large auditorium. The host asks about my work; you respond,It’s all fictional. The podcast studiois gold and bright, an array of audio equipmentin sight. You sit with the host on the same sideof a desk. You tell the…

Kelly Gray Ahead, a doe, her veined ears twitching between what is seen and unseen. Scent glands pulse and droplets fall from swollen genitals. In the dark of the woods, I enter the doe feet first; fold between organs, rest my head on the first chamber of stomach, smell fermented berries and acorns. When she…