by Sean Madden
The kid at Coyote Pond, six, maybe seven, a ruffled
head of hair, a neighborhood boy whose name
I once learned–he’s making me nervous, nervous
in a way I feel sheepish about, a way that’s borderline
irrational, the way he’s bouncing around the playground,
firing cap guns, shooting things only he can see.
Filed under Poetry
by Lenny DellaRocca
The woman downstairs has hired a man to tear apart everything
she owns. Since her husband died
she carries grief around
in a suitcase of birthdays.
Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Sujash Purna
The year is sometime in the second
decade of some century where they
spell my name wrong. The fear
of a roof caving in, overcast sky
buried in snow. Untimely fools,
they’re leaving me. The whale Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Suzanne Verrall
while everyone else went home laden
I was left
empty-handed
unable to find
a pair of size nine beds
for my sleepwalking feet Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by A.C. Dobell
didn’t say it like other people say it
with a playful hesitation at its unfamiliarity
in their mouths; it was one exhale,
four syllables rounded one small fire
in the night. I don’t use it often, Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
