By Amy Woolard
We burn in daylight but we love the dogs until they
Become stardust again. Like all dogs do, they love…
Become stardust again. Like all dogs do, they love…
Explore Poems: Home Life
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- By Aaron ShurinThe gates, the gardens, the windows, the sky, the ledge of bricks, the fallen leaves, the porch where…
- By Lauren RussellHammock dumping
you onto bruised
grasses, frayed
thoughts droop
sideways, hammering
morning. Slipper-
footed… - By Kate PartridgeThe dentist is now the same
age as me, which is troubling,
mostly because of what I
have and have not done… - By Joshua BennettFor the sake of argument, let’s say
the day my father outlawed all contact
between backhand and face, … - By Stefania GomezIn the sunless hour before day I hear the man I want
to love just how I’d want him. He’ll never let a… - By Shara McCallumPain enters through an open window
and you say it is the wind.
It marrows into beams, gutters
walls. Still… - By Yi LiI love cherries.
The fruit, juice, jam,
blossoms, prints on a summer
dress, in a black forest cake… - By Chaelee DaltonConsider the market. Consider the gross domestic product of Korea. Call it Kimchi.
Ferment culture in… - By Sarah CarsonThe first gun we knew came in a toolbox for the apocalypse: hammer, barrel, crushed can, pack of Newports…
- By Anastasia Taylor-Lindv.
Isn’t it dangerous to be a woman? Surrounded by men, questions
about risk-taking, parenting (I’m childless… - By Li-Young LeeAnother word for father is worry.
Worry boils the water
for tea in the middle of the night.
Worry trimmed… - By Sharon OldsBut I love the I, steel I-beam
that my father sold. They poured the pig iron
into the mold, and it fed out slowly,
a bending jelly in the bath, and it hardened,
Bessemer, blister, crucible, alloy, and he
marketed it, and bought bourbon, and... - By Gina FrancoWhat looks the ghosts have thirsted for, what love
they conceal
in their deep pails carried up the stairs… - By francine j. harrisHe widens an eye and gets down on one knee.
He accepts a sliver of silver from my mother and kisses
… - By Karl KnightsIt’s Boxing Day and I’m nearly ten and a half.
I got the camouflaged Action Man for Christmas.
I told … - By Adedayo Agaraui think what i saw threw me outside the house—i think a hand dipped into the room through the aluminum…
- By Adedayo AgarauThe mothers are weaving their hair & talking about chickens. Iya Jide, who has poultry with twelve …
- By Petr HruškaTranslated By Jonathan BoltonTrue darkness is in a child’s bedroom. Deep black.
Elsewhere there’s just a meager, watery twilight… - By Petr HruškaTranslated By Jonathan BoltonTwo days of rain. Children on the floor. Scant trees.
The furniture confesses to the boards. Reaching…