Poems

“I read the line over and over / as if I might discern / the little fires set / the flames of an idea licking the page”

“Illumination,” Natasha Trethewey

Death Dresses | Poetry

Death Dresses | Poetry

Death Dresses   A Death Doula? these words come with cop cars; hot frantic alarms incredulity The little girl insideme grew uphad kidsdied in your bed.(hysterical) This town ain’t big enough for the both of us anyway the he/him beard and my little ponies I...
Legacy | Poetry

Legacy | Poetry

Legacy   i click my wrist bones together like two strangers kept captive i nosedive in friction and curve with the depths trapped in gaps where i just                          can’t                                      find my voice yet, there— lain beneath...
Sestina for My Mother | Poetry

Sestina for My Mother | Poetry

Atlanta Writer’s Club Presents… The Natasha Trethewey Prize for Poetry Winner: Elizabeth Bracken   Sestina for My Mother   When I was four, I would sit in a brown wooden chair in the kitchen and my mother would braid my hair. Then she would turn...
Cultivation | Poetry

Cultivation | Poetry

Cultivation Why do our bodies make things they do not need? Seeds from a fast food kids’ meal in a backyard whiskey barrel make juicy little red globes on the vine. Replication is supposed to be a highly regulated routine, a pageant of proteins and cytoskeletal...
Malaisonaisse | Poetry

Malaisonaisse | Poetry

Malaisonaisse “Squash is an excellent conveyer of butter,” my friend said. The strangest things go in and come out when he opens his head, watching fat-spackled beef bricks and spit hit the coals as barbecue sauce drips from ribs and wings and fingers and...

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