What must I say to speak to you, God? Hell awaits me, but what can I do, God? Fallacies and many men’s phalluses have occupied my mouth, but look at how many scriptures and quotes my mouth knew, God. On my hands and knees with an arched back taking in all of these […]
Poetry
I Ghazal Down Men While God Listens
What I Think About When I Visit Savannah, GA
by Tralen Rhone
Was there always moss hanging from those trees? Did they purposefully hang themselves from the highest, sturdiest, most supportive branch? Did they make sure to leave enough room to let their underside dangle, waiting for passersby to touch them, free them, see them? The wind brings life to these stationary bodies. The […]
As You Learn of Elk, Elk Learn of You
by Laurinda Lind
This poem was nominated for The Best of the Net. Elkhips leaning any way they want since up to the day of discovery, their word is pivot. There’s a reason bones are like books, and why you breathe your air and live in them. Or elk stomach as a church where charms help […]
STATE OF THE UNION
by Michael Meyerhofer
All the news is talking about the lack of surgical masks and ice cream trucks for the dead, how many grandfathers need help to breathe, but today, I can’t seem to stop wondering how oranges smell when they’re burning. For that, too, is something I’ve never known, having missed my one chance to walk a […]
WATCHING MY MOTHER BAKE
by Michael Meyerhofer
Strangest of all was the knife, how gingerly she pushed it through the soft raw crust of the pie freshly-formed on the oven’s surface, preheat already rising in waves, her glance warning me not to touch— the same woman who decided, a week before my seventh birthday, to have me circumcised […]
closet sonnet
by Gillian Ebersole
this sticky summer night is a beet stain – let me paint your skin & clear my schedule, sit in my room until you call me back. I imagine you struggling with a jar of marinara sauce in your kitchen – let me take it. here, I’m haunted by prayers before dinner & boyfriends […]
Neffs Canyon, April
by Katherine Indermaur
This poem was nominated for The Best of the Net. Across the dry creek bed, in drifts of silver snow, a frozen yearling doe reclines against the mountain slope. Her little legs splay spindle-straight, the memory of standing gone frost inside them. Though the snow below begins to thaw, I want to think her frozen, […]
Oregon Trail
by Christina Olson
Once, I carried all my thoughts in my head. Now they live on a flash drive or in a cloud. I am a turtle, I contain terabytes. Do not confuse me with the armadillo, which still requires human touch. Scientists say that our culture has become one of information on demand. This means our brains […]
Jeans! Jeans! Jeans!
by Christina Olson
In the photo on Facebook, Janine’s dead mom is wearing a t-shirt that says jeans! jeans! jeans! Her mom has been dead for eleven years, two years longer than I have known Janine. We tend to horrify polite company with our banter, her saying my dead mom and me saying, Oh, is your mom […]
Underworld
by Dana Curtis
This poem was nominated for The Best of the Net. It was done in an hour, and the aftermath was a red light sinking behind a line of bodies, nothing like a bread line or staying up all night to get the best seats. My cut was waiting in a box by the door while […]
