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By Sara Brickman
They do not want me to be a river, but I am unstoppable.
I am the perfect instrument. Capable
of every sound, but here the only sound you hear under
me is No. Is, Please. The men
By Rachel Eliza Griffiths
I remember the boys & their open hands. High fives
of farewell. I remember that the birches waved too,
the white jagged limbs turning away from incessant wildfires
By Joshua Weiner
Today is Sunday.
Today, for the first time, they let me go out into the sun.
And I stood there I didn't move,
struck for the first time, the very first time ever:
By Kelli Stevens Kane
blueberry blackberry as always
bleeding, back road or boulevard,
our boy crowned with baton,
By Jody Bolz
First, take away light.
Leave time—but make it dark,
disordered. Make it sleepless.
Not day, not night.
By Hermine Pinson
“ I will ask you to recall these words
at the end of our session”
By Sue D. Burton
Today it’s Hopkins and his obscure spiritual contraptions –
everything I read is heart-corseted, like a concealable vest,
police surplus good as new. Some fanatic is packing a gun.
By Bridget Kriner
This is what I know about being a woman:
My body is coursing with estrogen,
I have a uterus, my breasts fit into bras
that are fashionable, men look at them.
By Lindsay Vaughn
Women who are not ready we have our own ways
we take pills lie in our lovers’ beds
curled like blades of grass we wait for the writhing wind
that aches and rocks our slender bodies they whisper
By Devreaux Baker
Last night my sister came to my table
Trailing stories from the other world
Trailing remnants of all our mother’s people
She spoke words that fell from her mouth