Poem
By Kate Partridge
The dentist is now the same
age as me, which is troubling,
mostly because of what I
have and have not done…
age as me, which is troubling,
mostly because of what I
have and have not done…
Category
Parenthood
Showing 1-20 of 742 results
- PoemBy Joshua BennettThe money of the mind is attention, maybe.
Which is not, initially, where I thought I’d begin,
but we… - PoemBy Paul TranMixed greens. Purple onions. Banana
Peppers. Tomatoes. Avocados. Mayonnaise. Pepper. Sourdough.
A stranger… - AudioPoetry Off the ShelfKeetje Kuipers on becoming a single mother by choice, gardening topless, and leaping without looking.
- PoemBy J. Mae BarizoMorning in the city and the performance
that is Madison Avenue wearing diamond
studs for breakfast, my… - PoemBy Li-Young LeeAnother word for father is worry.
Worry boils the water
for tea in the middle of the night.
Worry trimmed… - PoemBy Sharon OldsBut I love the I, steel I-beam
that my father sold. They poured the pig iron
into the mold, and it fed out slowly,
a bending jelly in the bath, and it hardened,
Bessemer, blister, crucible, alloy, and he
marketed it, and bought bourbon, and... - PoemBy Jordan PérezWhen the purple snap peas in the garden
couldn’t find anything to grasp onto, the shoots
ferned into… - PoemBy Blas FalconerIn Francisco Oller’s El Velorio, a child lies
on a table as if sleeping. It is covered in lace
and blossoms… - AudioPoetry Off the ShelfElisa Díaz Castelo on vertigo, breaking a chicken, and her grandmother's advice for a good life.
- PoemBy Ada LimónOn my way to the fertility clinic,
I pass five dead animals.
First a raccoon with all four paws… 
- PoemBy Christian J. CollierWe were ravaged by our loss, our child.
In the shower, slightly past midnight,
after I’d covered the … - PoemBy Christian J. CollierBetween us, there are one hundred one
umber haints in our home.
In bed, we discuss
our future, our children… - PoemBy James JoyceFrail the white rose and frail are
Her hands that gave
Whose soul is sere and paler
Than time's wan wave… - ArticleBy Alana Pockros
JoAnna Novak’s poems of domestic dread.
- PoemBy Bertrand N. O. WalkerHush thee and sleep, little one,
The feathers on thy board sway to and fro;
The shadows reach far downward… - PoemBy Li-Young LeeSad is the man who is asked for a story
and can’t come up with one.
His five-year-old son waits in his lap.
Not the same story, Baba. A new one.
The man rubs his chin, scratches his ear.
In a room full of books...