By Cornelius Eady
Some folks will tell you the blues is a woman,Some type of supernatural creature.My mother would tell...
Explore Poems: Marriage & Companionship
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- By Ama CodjoeI don’t like being photographed. When we kissed at a wedding, the night grew long and luminous. You ...
- By Richard SikenDriving, dogs barking, how you get used to it, how you make the new streets yours.Trees outside the...
- By DaMaris B. HillEvery wife must apologize for not being her husband’s mother? But he will not forgive you. The absence...
- By Amber AdamsOn the morning after my death it will seem like any other day where you will both wake and sleep and...
- By C.L. O’DellOne day either you or me as if drugged will be staring at a collage of photos in an unfamiliar foyer...
- By J. V. CunninghamYou are the problem I propose, My dear, the text my musings glose: I call you for convenience love. ...
- By Shira ErlichmanIn the cab, you turn pink from the streetlights checkering the window. Just as palpable, you grow inner...
- By Gabrielle BatesI am warned against marrying early love. I am also told it works out, sometimes, for saplings can be...
- By Isabel Duarte-GrayThe Devil made a meal of me and all the Sundays I was sleeping. To think of all the hours, what I might...
- By Philip Metres1. Outside, in a country with no word for outside, they cluster on trees, red bunches. I looked up ryabina, found...
- By Susan BrowneI know something’s cooking When you give me that look, Your eyes appearing slightly crossed Above your...
- By Lauren WhiteheadOkay Tell that to the palm of this Black man’s hand ever so slightly cupped and carrying in its bend...
- By Charlotte PenceI. Only Use Light Years When Talking to the General Public or to squirrels who test spring between two branches...
- By Keetje KuipersUp the snow-slicked hill, the truck's tracks behind us like the drag of our twin wedding trains, until...
- By Geraldine Clarksoni married a person of great age whom i had won in a bet. they seemed prophet or king. of considerable...
- By Mairead Small StaidHe ringed my finger in the golden hour, late day Of a long winter, & it has been spring Ever since. ...
- By Emily RansdellI do remember darkness, how it snaked through the alders, their ashen flanks in our high-beams the color...
- By Jehanne DubrowNow we are here at home, in the little nation of our marriage, swearing allegiance to the table we set...
- By Anne SextonThe end of the affair is always death. She’s my workshop. Slippery eye, out of the tribe of myself my...