By: Marianne Lyon Dancer dearest body I do not have a mind but I embrace holy litany of inexhaustible emotions they quick-step me through...

By: Wendy Blaxland I open the car door to let the dark night in and hear the soft owl sound of a more-pork‒whoo-hoo‒ like a breath blown...

By: Susan Cummins Miller Into Saguaro National Park-West i. Cloud waves, rosy-tinted in first dawnlight, break upon the atmospheric...

By: Judith Mikesch McKenzie The old red quilt hangs against the window with little white yarn-bows in each square many no longer tied but...

By: Cora Hyatt I will not say that you weep for your country, or even for democracy, as you were made in the image of a land that eschews...

By: Rebecca Smolen In the hatching where future tense is assumed, never real, the past has clotted— In subsided pain, a clean breath...

By: Allison deFreese Fragments And what if we lost only what we don’t need? Two thousand years later Sappho still stands with her lopped...

By: Fran Abrams I ask myself what might make me happy. Would I like ice cream or a new sweater? My response: “It seems that I am always...

By: Diane Thiel In nearly every pocket, a small, methodical machine, but the world still unprepared for the systematic replicating deep...

By: Timothy Geiger I. Rustic, the way wind swaggers this prairie, timothy grass as a sort of transcendence. And by grass, I mean golden...

By: Margot Douaihy representation of possession by demonic forces, not because it’s a movie about devils, per se. It’s about the fresh...

By: Corie Johnson LITTLE GLASS HOUSES Get me a poison ring. Size 9 ¼. Art Deco. Art Deco is any item I see and like. Minimalist is any...

By: Kira Rosemarie A Dance of Sisters Hair dripping honey-like down Backs sheathed in smoothed elastane, Both pressed Like new pants...

By: A. L. Biltucci There is little evidence of your existence, though I’m in my thirties, so you must have happened. An unseen force...

By: Robert W. Hill To Learn to Practice On a crackling cell, Carrie told me she talks in bed alone into the half-dark, flicking chimes of...

By: Sandee Gertz Postignano, Italy, 2017 In Rome, the Italians make kissing look like high art, But I say crying is art too — the gravel...

By: Frances Klein Horoscopes for the New Year I Today everything is hypothetical. It’s best not to leave the bed. Spend all day running...

By: Samantha Wright the comet shadowboxes in the falling of her brief flight and yet, as she passes by, trailing stardust, she points at...

By: Sophia Goodfriend At the time of night when fog rolls off the lake and thickens at the window, heavy with dandelions turned to seed,...

By: Kip Knott Lonesome Appalachian Highway for Hank Williams, who died on the road in the backseat of his car somewhere in West Virginia,...

By: Stella Saalman It’s a new year, and we’re both different people than when we started off. You had your questions, and answers, while...

By: Kelly Lenox Shallow bay sandbox snow— my growing- up years mobile Moving vans my familiars My mother’s Going home unpacked...

By: David Alexander McFarland A little pain pill When I whisper yes to her in my hoarse, my strangulated voice, yes, please yes to that...

By: L. Kamali‘i Ferguson The Stutter When the lights of houses have become a life The wire spine and the seed-pods chime What’s your...