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 David Rogers
Regret–
that was the real original sin
The river flows a different way
To paddle against it for long is folly
Hummingbird and mockingbird
nest on branches Continue reading
by Chris Abbate
A neighbor and I drag you down
two flights of stairs,
grunt against your heft,
a dying animal to be euthanized.
We turn your rigid body
gently around corners
as if not to hurt you,
as if you could feel pain. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Beth Oast Williams
Opening is what my hands do
to catch what falls from the sky, loose
blossoms in wind, like snow in July. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
