To the woman I saw today who wept in her car
By Bianca Lynne SpriggsWoman,
I get it.
We are strangers,
but I know the heart is a hive
and someone has knocked yours
from its high branch in your chest
Search Results
THE NINE
By Tara HardyThey call it dissociation.
I call it THE NINE (children)
who live inside me.
Each of them encased
in amber, frozen in a mosquito-pose
intermittent apnea of unknown causation
By Doritt Carrollthe first time it happened
i thought i was being strangled
four fingers compressing each side of my throat
no air
When I Kiss You, A Casket Opens
By beyza ozerthis is not terrorism
this is toxic masculinity
made in the USA
when my mother hears
about orlando
she doesn't look at me
Talk Ugly
By Joseph GreenThe last time I saw you alive
I wish I would’ve talked ugly to you.
Said, “Put the straw down. No,
I don’t want to take another line,
I should be writing them.
Almost Midnight
By Deborah A. MirandaWife and dogs have gone to bed.
I sit here with the front door open.
Crickets sing patiently, a long lullaby
in lazy harmony. Rain falls
Quartering
By Seema RezaWhen the soldier knocks on your door, billet book in hand, move aside
to let him enter. He will wipe his feet, remove his hat
(you’ll learn to call it a cover)
he will be polite, place his rifle by the door
Loving the Enemy
By Caits Meissnerof course there were gaps I kept my eyes
shuddered up my curiosities strapped
amnesia on as a mask but only the dead do not dream.
Dream Coated with Fluoxetine
By Aricka ForemanWhen the hollow grows thick, she prescribes
20 mg to take every morning for four to five days,
then increase as tolerated. Take it with fish oil and
a book of artificial light, try not to repeat the question.
Depression Insists We Stay In
By Katy RicheyThere’s not a single thing in your closet
that should be worn after 1997.
You do look fat in those pants,