Category: Poetry

by Emily Leithauser How would I know her throat was sore; she’s gotvowels and a few letters with hard edges:it’s awbay for strawberry; peese for please; indofor window. How will I watch for fever? Whatif I fall asleep? How high will the peak be, and isher door, the one we latch with the converted chainof…

by Joe Gallagher When Galactic Man woke up existing he saw trillions of stars in the local filament strung on dark matter across the frozen void and also a Tex-Mex restaurant in Frederick, Maryland, called Café Bueno. Switching scopes to infrared he discovered the Burrito Azteca in Guajillo sauce so long-simmered it was flashing like…

By Chris Watkins                         After torrin a. greathouse   Sing, godx, of one with many names and forms. Rage for Thomas(ine) Hall, born 1603, Newcastle. Sing of one driven far from home and into war. Sing an epic-sapphic, seraphamic, many-winged song. Sing! Let us learn. Tell how, in those days, comely James I tried to conquer,…

By Natalie Louise Tombasco Girls, this calls for an excavation:come with hard hats and field notes,            sharp trowels and sieves. Brush the earth             from ancient secrets, from the gold-clad wristthat gestures toward rotten tooth truth—did I lose half a day of skiing for this? Some of you are beyond repair.            But this is an emergency!Axe down every…

By Amelia K. Bloodsick and crumbling like first place ribbons                   you can’t eat, and no one wants to                                                                               preservea peach gone soft at the height of the season                      greet pain that makes atheists out of                                                                   so called saints tyingribbons on a lover’s wrists scarless like a baby                     no one asked forand no one is allowed to give back,…

By Andrew Hemmert From what I can tell, most of the drivers believe in God,and a god is a good thing to have if driving is your job.At the end of the interview, my soon-to-be boss told mea motorcyclist hit one of our cars going ninetyin a forty-five. Died instantly. Our driver survivedbut couldn’t shake…

by Afton Montgomery Mom was pregnant with me when the Chuck E. Cheese murder happeneddown the street and when “Blue Mustang” was commissionedto whinny in fiberglass at the center of Peña Boulevard by the Denver airport.The horse is the sort of blue the Rockies turn early in the morningwhen there’s still snow in the high…

by Aaron Caycedo-Kimura Just as I remembered—Michelle Pfeiffer eyes, Meryl Streep nose and lips. We sat across the table from each other in a group of theater people. Caliente Cab Co., New York City. I knew you in San Francisco, I said. Explained that years ago, I played percussion for Godspell, the musical you directed.…

by Weston Morrow “You have died…” – Colossians 3:3– Oregon Trail, the video game All my ghosts come back,dying slowly, smoking cigarettesand speaking French. Even the cats,dead this past decade (hawk, car, diabetes)have returned to sleep, curled upin the crook of my knee. And the coyotesmy dad killed last winter tuck their chinsbefore the fireplace.…

by Alex Baskin our ancestors cut each other’s hair. they knew not of the unisex salon.on your porch, you wrap me in an old tapestry and unsheathe sharp scissors. we are both resourceful and jews. we both love assplay. you grin at me and slant your head.we slant our slantedness, offer it to the world.…