By Richard Siken
Driving, dogs barking, how you get used to it, how you make
the new streets…
the new streets…
Explore Poems: Home Life
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- By Jean ValentineThe hornet holds on to the curtain, winter
sleep. Rubs her legs. Climbs the curtain.
Behind her the cedars sleep lightly,
like guests. But I am the guest.
The ghost cars climb the ghost highway. Even my hand
over the page adds to the ‘room... - By Julien StrongEventually my stepfather grew tired
of his exile in the basement
and left. She wept and begged him
not to go but he packed his Hummingbird
guitar and soldering irons and moved in
with a woman he’d met at the corner store.
And my mother took... - By Julien Strongmy mother tells me, and proceeds
to elaborate at gruesome length.
But don’t all gods and heroes get off
to a rocky start? Young Theseus thrashed
in his fish shack, Zeus sent abroad to avoid
being lunch for his dad. I am twelve
and obsessed with... - By Kiki PetrosinoSo I lean back & Redford asks, “Water warm enough?”
& I don’t answer because I’m holding my breath.
I don't know why he asks.
He never uses the faucet to shampoo my afro—just an old clay jar.
Redford fills the jar at the... - By James CagneyI stood on the ledge
of the bathroom sink
irritated, resolved
my mother’s clippers
a growling chainsaw
in my hand.
I recalled my cousin––
seven years older––
who humbly bragged
over three fresh pubic cords
he found freshly minted
falling through his fingers.
... - By Sharon OldsI did not deserve to be beaten,
and I did not deserve ballet lessons––
except insofar as everyone deserves ballet lessons.
Me mum thought I was well worth beating.
She would not have thought that I deserved to starve.
I deserved the milk in her... - By Nikki GiovanniI watched Mommy
Cook
Though I cooked
With Grandmother
With Grandmother I learned
To pluck chickens
Peel carrots
Turn chittlins inside out
Scrub pig feet
With Mommy I watched
leftovers for stew
Or vegetable soup
Great northern beans
Mixed collards turnips and mustard greens
Garlic cloves Bay Leaves
Very beautifully green
Stiff so fresh
With just a... - By Stephen KuusistoI listen for the footsteps
Of my dogs:
Little taps from their via sacra.
When I hear them on the stairs
I know the happiness
Of Vivaldi!
Borges, if only they'd given you a dog
You'd have known
Blindness stands for nothing.
—Do not concern yourself with the whole. - By Raymond AntrobusMy mother says my father had a heartless sense of humour.
That winter she fell, ice on the road—
She can't forget her bruise, his laughter.
Not even his shadow helped her up or soothed her.
He watched from the kerb—boozy red-eyed Dad—
laughed when... - By Raymond AntrobusFunny that my mother was a clown
a college dropout who joined the circus
with another clown who made inflatable giants.
It's funny. His name was George,
a Marxist who swore he was serious
when he said the men who tried
to mow him down in... - By Kerrin McCaddenDear train wreck, dear terrible engines, dear spilled freight,
dear unbelievable mess, all these years later I think
to write back. I was not who I am now. A sail is a boat,
a bark is a boat, a mast is a boat... - By Chelsea B. DesAutelsAt first it was easy to tell the story
because it was actually happening
right then so we could tell each other
the story of how a disease infiltrates
a body but even then we did not recount
all the parts only the best ones
ending... - By Anni LiuWhen she returns, we mostly sit in separate rooms, faces down
into our screens. I hear her leaving him
messages on WeChat. She won’t get out of bed, sleeps with her glasses on.
There is no gentle enough way to wake someone
in this... - By Anuradha BhowmikCANDYDANDY24
Enter new Away message:
// LOVE ME 0R HATE ME //
Y0U STiLL CAN`T ERASE ME !!
- By Philip Metres1.
Outside, in a country with no word
for outside, they cluster on trees,
red bunches. I looked up
ryabina, found mountain ash. No
mountains here, just these berries
cradled in yellow leaves.
When I rise, you fall asleep. We
barely know each other, you said
on the phone... - By RK FauthTake me to the holler.
I want to see the cows
Big Mamaw’s grave and
something about tobacco fields.
I don’t recall all you said at Barley’s, but you
introduced yourself with an anecdote
about toothbrushes made from
chewed-up willow branches and
coyotes loping along a
wooded backyard—Uncle Clark’s
and... - By Jim Whitesidemary
One of just two kids on our street, I am coerced
into unenthusiastic doll-playing. Her room
is pink, the carpet tufted. The walls are lined
with pageant trophies—engraved metal plaques
and waving plastic gold girls. A small tiara.
Any two dolls can kiss, they just... - By Hyejung KookAgain this year I’ve failed the peonies that came to us
when we bought our house in summer, not knowing what
pink and white glory grew in the northwest. After the first May,
still childless, seeing how a single bloom could overflow
the cup... - By Kai CogginIt seems like all my poems
after this will be different,
they will hold a different weight
like how the weight of my heart
has shifted into indistinguishable float,
into lifting cloud,
into weightless flight tonight
as the rain gently falls
on the summer-heated tin roof,
the din of...