by Jenny Molberg You’re Just Like Everyone Else He’ll say anything He’ll make a steamboat of his mouthand out comes a sick green river You’re the only one You’re water and oar You’re windand undertow We’ll fuck until we fly You know what he’ll do You’re just like everyone elseHe only says this to you […]
Category: Poetry
by Jenny Molberg Evidence: She Said I wearchartreuse. Under-eye bags. People whisper.I heard she made it up. See me,then don’t. Jenny Molberg is the author of three poetry collections: Marvels of the Invisible (Tupelo Press, 2017), Refusal (LSU Press, 2020), and The Court of No Record (forthcoming from LSU Press, 2023). An NEA fellow, her […]
by Jenny Molberg Evidence: She Said The cops?When he chased medown an alley, they stoodblue, unmoved. He can spin a badge.Turn them. Jenny Molberg is the author of three poetry collections: Marvels of the Invisible (Tupelo Press, 2017), Refusal (LSU Press, 2020), and The Court of No Record (forthcoming from LSU Press, 2023). An NEA […]
by Jenny Molberg Redirect Examination by The Alpha’s Attorney The MeToo poem was shocking, was it not? This was her dogged power of persuasion and not your actions, correct? The accused has written a poem about your treatment of her, has she not? And the poem, though it does not name you, leads people to […]
by Jenny Molberg Evidence: He Said The beach.A dusk becameme. Next thing, a star fell.Her limbs and head its five points. Smallblack hole. Jenny Molberg is the author of three poetry collections: Marvels of the Invisible (Tupelo Press, 2017), Refusal (LSU Press, 2020), and The Court of No Record (forthcoming from LSU Press, 2023). An […]
by Jenny Molberg Statement of The Alpha’s Attorney I say unto thee, these women belong to a cult against men. For a whore is a deep ditch; and a strange woman is a narrow pit.[1] My client dreams of the respondents. They spew the blood spatter of men. They awaken my client. They unsettle my […]
by Jenny Molberg The Alpha’s Attorney: Opening Statement Briefly, your Honor. Thou shalt not bring the hire of a whore, or the price of a dog, into the house of God for any vow: for even both these are abomination unto the LORD thy God.[1] This is what the LORD says: In the place where […]
by Jenny Molberg Bridge Ann Bryan, 1911–1994. Murdered, St. James Place Retirement Community, Baton Rouge. The women take their places at the bridge table,this day without Ann. North, West, East. I study Ann’s black hair, a curled wreath, in the bookabout her killer. Her large glasses exalt the kind of eyes that speak. What right […]
by Jenny Molberg Shooting at Oakbrook Apartments My neighbor held a gun to his chestand with the other hand, his son, captive for being his son. The bulletpunctured the man, the window, then the air above my head as I peered over the fence.A bullet to the chest can miss the heart. Square in their […]
by Grace Wagner What they said: There may be some in this auditorium. There may be some here today that will be homosexual in the future. There are a lot of kids here. There may be some girls here that will turn lesbian. We don’t know. But it’s serious. Don’t kid yourselves about it. They […]
by Dena Igusti TODAY EVIDENCE // HOLDS ITSELF // REASON TO PROVE MY HURT // A SERPENT SHEDS ITSELF // OF AN OLD SKIN // FORGETS WHAT IS LEFT BEHIND // I WANT TO REMOVE // CELLS, DEAD, GENETIC THAT HANG // OFF MY BODY // HOLD TRACES OF WHAT // WAS DONE TO ME […]
by Haley Bell Keane On my way to work, a brown ibis walking in the grass.I almost pull over to ask about its feathering—do ibis havebrown plumage? A juvenile, maybe, or just some other bird—which birds look like ibis? Would itruin this poem if I knew? Would it be a different poem?Do I have the […]
by AC Dobell I want to steal them all,or own the rights to themlike an art collector. Pluck them one by oneoff the screens in Times Square,watch them disappearfrom the sides of highways. I will spare only “Farm Fresh Eggs”& the “Free Firewood” signsbecause I am feeling generous. I will leave up empty billboards& screens […]
by Ana Michalowsky Ten Practical Suggestions Skyline Cemetery, 2019 from Never the Same: Coming to Terms with the Death of a Parent by Donna Shuuman Get the Information You Need You may be surprised at the healing that can take place, not just for you, but for others who are keeping secrets or have held […]
by Abigail Chang Yellow-morning with too-heavy sun. Feeling sick from lethargy and not enough oranges. A mother dialing back your fingers splashing them quiet and brown. All the trees praying down at your porch.The sound of water. Eating citrus from a bowl. Light. […]
by Kevin Norwood Marco Island Florida, November 2021 Waves lap cautiously at the shore, where a one-legged sandpiper hops and pecks at biofilm shimmering in mid-morning sun. We step carefully around and overthe morning’s wide swath of shells, mindful of our bare feet; stooping here and there to pick up specimens I will cradle in […]
by Kris Falcon Thyme shoots, dragon fruit sorbet,the market not marked by season or place.A spigot for pots of chai. Free sun golds.No one will think to look here, a hobbycity with no knobs.You are always seeing faceson tenements with no numbers, in the simple-knuckled branches where parking ends, whereyou picture desires ripen. It’s makrut […]
by Kristin Entler Where the bones meet. Right there below the pinkie’s metacarpal line. She knows it is a pearl because the doctors told her so. A baroque pearl, according to her medical charts. Though notations read that this is a best guess. That the only way to know the anatomy of the joint composite […]
by Emma DePanise Goliath Frog Whistles to Their Lover My yellow underbelly bristles, the warmwater trickles—I’ll do the dishes every night, I promise. My elongated second toecan almost reach you. I didn’t kiss that dragonfly. This July night skysticky and wild as my tongue. I hear other kinds of frogs have the rightkinds of voices, […]
by Beth Suter Night-blooming jasminesuffuses the sleepless dark— scent of the unseen, a shiver in the belly, my forever-fishswimming a shoreless womb. Though my son surfaced, a tremor remains, his arrivalopened a door I can’t close— the door of my […]
by Ash Good Accessible File Ash Good (they/them) is a queer, non-binary poet, designer & activist in Portland, Ore. They are cofounding editor at First Matter Press (501c3 nonprofit) & a reader for Frontier Poetry. Ash’s newest collection, us clumsy gods, is forthcoming from What Books Press in 2022. Poems recently appear in Voicemail Poems, Cathexis, Willawaw Journal & others. Diamante […]
by Jessica Kim Now watch me strangle the neck of the apricot tree,watch me grab a back of green onions and cage it in the rusty supermarket cart. Like the flight herefrom California, confined in the small body of an aircraft. The Korean peninsula devours my bodyand swallows. I wonder why I am so welcomed […]
by Rachel Stempel for my future dermatologist It’s Thursdayand it’s lateand you’ve lostyour right handto scienceand your left hand’slimp Your knucklesbulgeand starecockeyed You forget howyour playground politicsmade illegibleevery good thingyou got your greasy […]
by Melody Serra Accessible File *Image: A New York Times clipping of “Patricia Lockwood’s First Novel Reaches for the Sublime, Online and Off” by Merve Emre, Feb. 16, 2021. Melody Serra’s passion is teaching and empowering others by sharing what she has learned. She helped launch an arts and crafts program at a children’s hospital […]
Don’t worry, I promised my mother,I’ll finish the room. She lay in the hospice bed,her chest spongy with cancer.She had me get the scrapof paper from her purse, her notes:the carpet, the table, the wicker, the paint.I stroked her skeletal hand.Then day turned its face away. Weeks later, I bought the paint, made the time.But […]
by Brent Ameneyro I walk past the half-finished cinderblock buildingthe not yet blooming Jacarandasand the police lights turning the laundromat bluein search of a floweror a church that could make me feellike the child licking tamarindotalking to himself I watch two volcanoes at sunseton the left a woman sleeps or dies of grief she glows every […]
by Brent Ameneyro She made the best red rice and frijoles.After the table was cleared,it was filled again with tamales—peel back the huskfind something steaming, damp,what some might call flesh-toned. After the table was cleared,something else appearedfrom the kitchen, and so it went like this all day.After the flan went cold,Mayté turned into a Crested […]
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