Poetry
by Alex Johansson.
“There are more important things I should be doing at the age of forty-two,” / you say, showing me photos of your daughter in a pink, fluffy tutu and I…”
by Julia B. Levine.
“The world mostly gone, I make it what I want: / from the balcony, the morning is a silver robe of mist / I make a reckless blessing of it…”
by Rafael Campo.
“His worn-out T-shirt, black as mourning, black / as countless deaths, surprises
me— it screams…”
by Martha Young.
“A wingspan so wide it soared beyond the sidewalk / like a small plane. I turned, I had to turn, find where it landed…”
by Abe Louise Young.
“Your left hand is a dead fish, your left leg a sunken anchor, your / left eye a black mussel…”
by Martha Silano.
“Thinking of you as I pick up flecks of oats from the kitchen floor, / put them back in the container. You know, the five-second rule.”
by Jonathan Stillerman.
“Thank goodness every so often /
a monument closes down / for renovation…”
by Julia Alvarez.
“My mother used to say that she’d end up / at Bellevue if we didn’t all behave.”