Skip to Content
Search Results
Karla Cordero

A Conversation With Siri About Death

By Karla Cordero i watch slasher movies but hate the sight of real blood leave the body

i panic on planes & think of ways the machine or sky

will betray me i read books in fear to evaporate

out of this world without seeing its soft hands
Adela Najarro

Juanita Falls into Transformative Nouns

By Adela Najarro I have learned to speak dementia
by looking straight into her eyes
smiling, laughing, then digging deep
Travis Chi Wing Lau

Pithy

By Travis Chi Wing Lau I shrug off my messenger onto the floor and forget to kiss you when I walk through the door.
Leigh Sugar

Bone Tumor

By Leigh Sugar I knew it was something bodies could do, disobey –
a girl a grade above had died that fall
of the cancer I was being tested for in winter,
Margo Tamez

Brecksville, Ohio

By Margo Tamez The weather in Brecksville was in transition.
He was wearing a light jacket. The seasonal
change of weather variations,
Janice Lobo Sapigao

Bill Pay

By Janice Lobo Sapigao we don’t know how to pay the bills on time
and we don’t know the password to your bank account

& in all of our languages I understand why you stacked
linens and face towels and rubber bands and plastic bags

in drawers and hallway closets
everything filled to the brim
Mahogany L. Browne

Do not make Grief your God

By Mahogany L. Browne Instead
Make it a cup of coffee
The espresso percolator wheezing on
The biggest eye
On the stove
Pacyinz Lyfuong

The Day I Learned to Speak My Grandmother’s Tongue

By Pacyinz Lyfuong The day I learned to speak my grandmother’s tongue
An Eastern wind shifted the earth
While the western walls were whisked away…
And the mountains of Laos rose on the horizon,
Angelique Palmer

God or a Lottery Ticket in a Black Woman’s Purse

By Angelique Palmer Trying to find faith
in a world that is slowly killing me and blaming me for why they can’t do it right

or why survival might be the only thing in the way of enjoying life
Jessica Jacobs

In a Thicket of Body-Bent Grass

By Jessica Jacobs Arkansas is aspic with last-gasp summer, making running
like tunneling: the trail’s air a gelatin
of trapped trajectories.
Page 1 of 3 pages