Category / Poetry / 2020 / Spring 2020 / 2020 / Spring 2020 Poetry

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  • The Ocean – Amanda Tumminaro

    I was wed to the ocean, deeply. It was tranquil like a graveyard, but it made for a good listener, as I wanted a coffee confidante. But now the waves just welcome me in, with a curl of a palm, and one hiccup, and it’s done, and now it is time for sink or swim.…

  • Three Poems – John C. Mannone

    Ruach Soft grasses kneel at your breath. The rustle of your small still voice in a breeze through a field of lilies incense their petals, stirs your whisper against the face of my soul. I thirst for the moisture of your words, taste the earth-rich rill in the air flavored with pine—my lips sated,                                    …

  • Agree to Disagree – Lindsey Heatherly

    Would God still love and forgive me if I asked Him to consider agreeing to disagree? Would He welcome a meeting with me, taking an unassuming seat across the table— the same hands that wove the strands of the universe into being, clasped around a simple cup of coffee— calmly waiting for me to gather…

  • Loose Petals – Angelina Troche

    Facing upwards, smiling at the sky the sunflowers whisper good morning to their mother as she rises. she warms them, simultaneously warming my face as I stare out into the vast openness in front of me. golden and homey and safe. the only place I could go to get away from the overthinking and loudness…

  • Lantern Bug – Emma Compher

    The bug pounces. I scream for help, And you laugh. Lantern bugs are harmless, you say as it jumps on my head. Lantern bugs wouldn’t hurt you, you say as one crawls up my leg. Lantern bugs don’t bite, you say as this creature clings to my back. Well wait 10 years because these bugs…

  • Pollution – Ruslan Garrey

    Trivialities come like a toxic rain They linger, then slither off into bushes Like snails, they hide Untended they roll into shells And become forgotten Coiled into nuggets of dirt That becomes the calcium deposits of streets– They are a heavy residue Guests who have become furniture Meager warnings of the past To always be…

  • A Love Affair Plus Thunder – John Grey

    Sometimes there’s a storm and lightning cleaves a maple tree in two, and one half crashes through the roof of a house and the other demolishes a neighbor’s garage. But sometimes, it hasn’t rained in months and the land and the reservoir are crying out from thirst, and this sudden downpour spurs the soil to…

  • The Sea Never Rests – Judith Skillman

    Despite tacky music blaring evenings and afternoons from the massage parlor— Palapa roofed in black plastic— the same woman’s shawl comes higher, entreats the land. A long wave followed by another, one sun glittering its googolplex of glints in the cadenced waves. Earth wooed by water— a turquoise unlike any found beneath the crust of…

  • Somewhere outside the grasp of God – Mallory Rowe

    Somewhere outside the grasp of God– Where stars are never born And abandoned wings fly aimlessly– you and I burst into being; lovers, enemies, One Mallory Rowe has been writing poetry for over ten years, but she is currently passionate about haiku and senryu specifically. After graduating with a bachelor’s degree in Art History and…

  • Apis – Taylor Bain

    Honeybees danceOutside the windowFor a momentMy tired mindDances with them Taylor Bain is a tutor who enjoys watching campy movies. Her writing has appeared in Dual Coast Magazine and HCE Review.

  • Alternate Forms of Self Harm – Anna Clark

    Skip breakfast every day Because it is more important To paint yourself pretty.Hold back your tears So your peers cannot mock them.Give the gift of your time,               Your attention,                             Your love, To men who…

  • Mausoleum – James Cotter III

    I am bitten as we walk under the fallen angel leavesThe cracking cement face hard and haggard with century lines sidling up to its lover the cold dustI am as silent as this place allowsSlowly the wistful doom of age creeps into my bonesA fairer skeleton I knew notYet through toil and bloodshot tearsThrough the…

  • The City – Jason B. Crawford

    i am lost here // somewhere between infinite and unforgiving// i stand at these street corners and yell obscenities in the air// hear them echo back // know what it sounds like to be callednames but remain scabbed // numb to the hairs tightlybraiding nooses around my neck every time I drive by anofficer //…

  • Shelter – Jonathan Douglas Dowdle

    Come and listen to the floorsMoan out their complaints; we’ll record them,Recite them with our footstepsAs we walk through the houseRemembering how we arrived hereFrom the twisted wreckage of days,Surviving the flames that tried to eatWith lips of furyWhatever remained of our faith. Come and listen to the walls; We will fill them with our…

  • Ts’ulo’ob – Joshua Gage

    Let this be the hourthat refugees deport camp guardswho stare at the concrete floorbeyond the chain link of the cagesas their papers are stamped in Spanishwith secret destinations;let this be the hourthat ICE rifles blister their palmsand nightsticks shatter against their hands;let this be the hourthat brown-skinned familiesdrowned on the way northare resurrected to sip…

  • Disassociated – Ceresa Morsaint

    It is a city of nightand blurry, orange lights. A city of bridgesharboring secrets under the water. I am here in flesh only. A body on warm leather, cold windows. and split from this- I am floating. In the constellation raindropson the glass of my window,I connect dots,to music and the peaceful sounds of summer…

  • Samsara – Jason O’Toole

    Let the children have cupcakesAnd furniture to jump onTen more minutes before bedtime You know what’s comingLet them have some joy before For all we knowFive or six years before tonightTheir souls were leaving broken bodiesIn a Mexico City traffic accidentAwaiting divine judgement in a Serbian nursing homeOr floating above their wasted carcassRemorseful at having…

  • The Butterfly Chest – Alexis Pearson

    It’s time to drag the chest from the corner of the attic.The one with             the butterflies             in it. Sometimes I rip the nails from the floorboards and try to swallow them straight down my throat without the tip of the nail poking my insides. Momma says…

  • Queen – Lexie Reese

    Work Part I 10 years old She braids her dancing spirals smoothWith fingers holding memory.Handmade heart. Her mother’s eyes a summary:To bend, to weed, to wash, to reachThat perfect peach Beyond the grace of patchwork smiles Whose pink suffuses laundry carts;Infinite piles,Their centers drift and sag apart. Yet once she rinses all her miles Of…

  • Motion – Sudeep Soparkar

    Well it seems that the key to lifeIs to simply maintain motionSince I can’t see the moving airI guess I will duplicate the oceanI have found I am better off movingSo I will let these currents do the choosingBecause I can’t decide myselfIf my self-worthIs worth provingI have got wounds that need soothingI am tired…