by Lauren Goulette
Read More »I will stop trying to bite the hand that tends to me and let the washcloth run between my eyes.
haunting
by Leopold Crow
the belly of a whale is a metaphor.
this is what you tell yourself to feel better
about the ash lapping in and out at your feet,
gentle on the water. if you lay on your back
you can hear the sand in the hourglass ribs
falling. you dig for praise. you dig for flowers.
you scoop dark pebbles out of the sand.
this is not all.
Orange Poems
by Sania
Deep in my notes app, hidden behind to-do lists and funny quotes my friends have said, lies a collection of thirty-seven orange poems.
Read More »Laced Wonders
Winter Advice
by Devon Neal
Before you go to bed each night,
go out into the frost-blurred darkness,
Read More »3 poems
Call It Genocide
by Tim Murphy
For just a moment,
listen to the voice
that wants to call it
a war, that sees war as
something winnable,
even innocent, righteous,
no matter the innocence
left mangled in its wake.
Love Beans
by Katie Coleman
Leena’s coffee mug perches on the counter, telling her, ‘You Are Loved.’ But then she withdraws her spoon and angles the mug to her lips. As she swallows, thoughts of far-flung jungles emerge, where coffee beans ripen, where buildings have fans, and local people sway as they pass by arms linked with elegant partners.
Read More »
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