Poempoetry-magazineGrave-DiggingBy Rodney JonesIt was July. I must have been sixteen or seventeen,And proud to be chosen for a grown man’s work,Hollowing…
Poempoetry-magazineFlipping the BirdBy Ann-Margaret LimHolding his stare in mine, I flip the birdat a grown manon a stool in front of the street baron the …
Poempoetry-magazineThe Closet WeeperBy Mitchell GlazierStiletto melon collies, a tinsel mystic streaks our homeplace.Lantern flies triple from the sleeping…
Poempoetry-magazineWork EthicBy Heidi WilliamsonYou’re fifteen and nowhere in a town on the edge of pitiful lands stripped of fruit. The burger van’…
Poempoetry-magazinePhysical EducationBy Joshua BennettFor the sake of argument, let’s saythe day my father outlawed all contactbetween backhand and face, …
Poempoetry-magazineMango HeadBy Shara McCallumWhy yu always ask stupid question, ee?The man call mango head because him headshape like mango. What…
PoemSix Reasons I Can't Answer the Door for Him at 3 in the MorningBy Sarah Carson The last man here wanted what could not be taken: My girl, he'd say, my baby. The narrow of his eyes…
PoemDon't TouchBy Sarah CarsonThe first gun we knew came in a toolbox for the apocalypse: hammer, barrel, crushed can, pack of Newports…
PoemLittle Red-Cap By Carol Ann DuffyAt childhood’s end, the houses petered outinto playing fields, the factory, allotmentskept, like mistresses…
Poempoetry-magazineUniversal TruthsBy Shira Haus I prayed for my friend to live and he didn’t. I held his puffy hand, his heart jumping green on the…
Poempoetry-magazineWanderlustBy Miguel A. Vega If, even now, I am excited about it: every cow & horse, every canoe on the surface of Pyramid Lake—…
Poempoetry-magazineTwo BillsBy Phil Kayeand yes it does beg the question why a nine-year-old needs two twenty-dollar bills still sticky and …
Poempoetry-magazineClosets Are Made of Midwestern ThunderstormsBy Max FischerTaking off my clothes feels like peeling off parts of myself as if I’m a butterfly with its wings sheared…
Poempoetry-magazineboy laughs at my period-stained skirtBy Dianna Vega you’ll listen to what i’ll say. red is the absolute color of nature. red is the passing of your first…