By Ross White
I’m not the first man to lose his father
slowly, not the first to wonder
when I walk in the room if the…
slowly, not the first to wonder
when I walk in the room if the…
Explore Poems: Health & Illness
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- By Stefania GomezFiremen cut the car open like a cake but when
they reached through the windshield to pull me out
they … - By Brittany PerhamThe doctor tells her what she can’t eat
no grains no nuts no beans no sugar a tomato is OK
but no skins… - By Kimberly Johnsoni
The last time I lost you, I had turned
To salt. The hospice nurses all assured
An easier passing… - By Shubhi SahniDownload the descriptive transcript
You’ll wake up in the middle of the night with
shooting pain
Your … - By Lesley YoungeThe first time
I tell someone I’ve thought about
ending it
is right after the first time
someone tells me… - By Carmen GiménezIn Lima, my mother screams from her bed and from a garden
and in the parlor of her nursing home, and… - By Rigoberto GonzálezI’m consuming myself,
my doctor says, and I get
the urge each time I lift
a fork. How it rattles
with… - By Michelle OteroAfter the stroke our father lost the word
light switch
asked me to
press the wall so a world could open… - By Carmen Calatayudmy body at the water’s edge of opioid comfort
under the brain’s night sky
rounding the blue curve … - By Martha SilanoIs this the last time I’ll admire the guys
in their neon-yellow slickers, guiding us
to our parking spots… - By Martha SilanoBecause why not? Why not take the smashed pinecone
of my life, render it in purple? Why not dream of… - By Josh BellKung-Fu, a couch, and I might reach
emptiness tonight, stuck on that Midwest
hoo-doo, counting cemetery… - It leaves a mark on me when I fall
in my father's kitchen.
Only a few days it's been
of lifting him up … - By Karl KnightsThe zoo is tough terrain; hilly.
I wheel as fast as I can —
then Mum shouts ‘Keep up!’
I stop. ‘Hand me… - By C. Dale YoungThe angle of the sun does not confuse them—
once the bees find the rosemary, they cannot
forget it is… - By Norman DubieIf only it were just a lousy herb
That issued feeble tendrils slowly, now and then
Relinquishing some … - By Tilsa OttaOdio la violencia
Así sea hermosa y moderna
Le temo a la ciencia
Cuando hace realidad mis peores sueños… - By Felicia ZamoraWhere wor{l}d & the tangible object of that wor{l}d collide. My brain thinks traces & again, Singh’s words at the back of my throat, The unconscious is the most evasive archive of all, yet is pulsing right there inside you....
- By Felicia ZamoraI think about division. How we splice & splice & splice, mentally & anatomically. A cell becomes cells becomes exponential cells. A gorging. Always, our becoming; our something tangled in multiplicity. How the body yearns to rewild from behind muscle...