Poetry

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Two Poems by Ryan Quinn Flanagan

The Yellow Door By ramrod fleet, by coonskin cap,walking contraband visits the shops,in this one and out that one,purchases wrapped under arm or carriedin tiny...

That Winter Afternoon by Michael Gushue

In the third grade, I sat in the last row.Chalk dust whisper down the slate blackboard.The radiators hammered like anvilsthroughout the morning. In the...

Still Mourning on a Foggy Morning After Grandma’s Funeral

Clouds weep on theWindows adding their sorrow to my unchecked sadness. Sun tries to drysky’s tears, shine throughbut fog shrouds sky,effectively blockingany warmth from...

Two Poems by Nicole Scott

WITNESSING PHOTOSYNTHESIS My partner ina sturdy flowerpot. She trips the lightfantastic, into all life. Comets arcuniverses, for her. Waves entwine like wreathsto holidays, for her. A sturdy flowerpotwalks out...

Two Poems by Michael C. Davis

Missing, Presumed DeadThe mountain fell. Ice. No resistance.Canyon floor far below.What would the wives know?Crampon, piton, stance.The cloud bellowed. RopeGrew tight. Afternoon fadedInto night....

Three Poems by Courtney LeBlanc

POEM ENDING WITH A NESTLING CRADLED IN MY HUSBAND’S LARGE HAND Because of the time difference I waketo a text from my husband, sent the...

aftermath by Ellie Cameron

darkness fell, and we knew what we were in for; wind howled and we sheltered from the storm, and crawling from beneath the fallen branches,the shadows...

Two Poems by Ann Christine Tabaka

Lost Summers of my Youth The sweetness of summer, falling from trees /ripe / soft / luscious dreams of forever.We were the ones who begged...

Two Poems by Casey Catherine Moore

Calliope Teaches Me How to Write It’s dusk, and these hallowed groundsare motionless and silentOrange radiates from the horizon,and the oak trees loom like shadowsof...

Must-read

Two Poems by Ryan Quinn Flanagan

The Yellow Door By ramrod fleet, by coonskin cap,walking contraband visits the shops,in this one and out that one,purchases wrapped under arm or carriedin tiny...

That Winter Afternoon by Michael Gushue

In the third grade, I sat in the last row.Chalk dust whisper down the slate blackboard.The radiators hammered like anvilsthroughout the morning. In the...

Still Mourning on a Foggy Morning After Grandma’s Funeral

Clouds weep on theWindows adding their sorrow to my unchecked sadness. Sun tries to drysky’s tears, shine throughbut fog shrouds sky,effectively blockingany warmth from...
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