by Margaret E. Gillio
After reading Jordan Salama and Adrienne Rich
See the dark trucks
across the street.
They encircle a man,
pin him down.
Draw the blinds, stop
answering the door.
We watch in a silence like a rushing river
where I drown. I fear this silence.
by E. L. McKee
Impossible to separate them;
like the grain of sand around which
a mirror-bright pearl is formed,
Read More »by H.T. Reynolds
A mother strokes her daughter’s hair,
carefully avoiding the ventilator tubing,
humming You Are My Sunshine through
tears and mechanical breathing
by Stephen Mead
Every Wednesday it has rained since the rainy Wednesday of your death,
those nights, that rain – comfort, comfort – bringing you again.
I fast to this but for fluids, my body’s parched plains thirsty for each teeming bead
& all that hush of shimmering liquid slate.
by Émilie Galindo
Her advice –uncalled for and diagnosed from across the 9-to-5 arm’s length desk–was to crank down my features to a wary cinder block wall. To water down my hyperbolic & cartoonish emoting to tepid and tight-lipped detachment. If I had a cup, it’d be filled with years of those unbegged for two cents.
Read More »by Louis Faber
Look at this picture carefully.
They fill the streets, singing
carrying signs, demanding freedom
Read More »by Paul Hostovsky
It’s the almost that I love
about a gray day
like today. In weather
like this, I almost
Read More »by Ann E. Michael
In the months that are now
after
the numb mourning,
wanting nothing
no blooms, no brights,
no bourgeoning
or nourishment,
We proudly present another amazine poetry reading!
Our wonderful contributor Malachy Moran reads his poem seeds in all my pockets, published on The Amazine in March 2025.
Give it a listen below <3
Read More »We proudly present another amazine poetry reading!
Our wonderful contributor Sonia Nicholson reads her poem bare, published on The Amazine in June 2025.
Watch below <3
Read More »