Poetry Posts

Bedtime

by Keryna Stutts Barefoot, leaning over the counter she painted on her lipstick. She never wore shoes unless she was going out. The bottoms of her feet stained black, she could run across gravel as if it were carpet. Lips pursed carefully around a menthol, so as not to smudge…

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Battlements

by Michael Sandler 1. How the past buttresses remorse, as if today’s missteps fit old indentations that zig then zag from one ancient beacon to another. Like you I feel pulled apart by each, unsure which will prevail as if both flew my banner, leaving me to soldier on my…

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Garlic Press

by Michael Sandler Call it fierce appetite for gadgets, strawberry huller, a lobster pick good for fishing out olives. Lives imbue my favorite, cracking walnuts in a pinch, juicing lemons— but mostly for exuding garlic. Mom’s joke: a real chef would cook his goose with one. She used to clear…

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Oxalis

by Eleanore Lee A yellow mist floats along the rim of the far hill. In the dawning spring it sprang up by itself. We didn’t notice it happening. It just appeared. Up close the juicy little leaves look like clover, But they’re not. The sparkling blossoms small and brilliant. No…

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Theories About Footprints

by Michael Sandler As I approached he stood haltingly, kyphotic and aged. Perhaps he saw my chest thrust, rodding my back as if to overcome the torque of my own crooking hinge, its rust and abrade. Over appetizers and wine, disquiet ran in background mode while routine smiles and talk…

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For Waiting

by Mia Sara If you’re waiting for deliverance, better call UPS. If you’re waiting for UPS, look out for the green truck. If you’re bored of looking, try leaping off the edge. If you’re tired of the falling, better find a safety net. If you’re waiting for a safety net,…

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Absinthe Tasted in Hums of Water

by Lana Bella The drinking girl is not dreaming because a dreamer drinks not from thirst but for the tongue craves. With the snug sphericity of a pearl, she meets the long, furious work of humming spree, boothed in stilt bar hugging stein-glassed hands, ropy on the final slogs. Tinny haze synapses into familiar water, waist…

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Maxwell House Kills the Wicked Witch of the West

by Aline Pusecker Taylor Leaves swirl over ribboned bark grayed and grooved. Glint of flint! Blaze ablaze! The witch needs a fix a mix of hazelnut and cream a dream, caffeine Brew to shrew. Ding-dong, the witch is dead

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Take Me to the River and Wash Me Down

by Lana Bella After Al Green’s “Take Me to the River” All the while the river rushed, so has everything else. Shivering through a late winter leave, I felt the paranoiac quiet traced down the folds of my bones wading beyond the water, gin memory pulled up by Xanax and opiates,…

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Neurotic

by Aline Pusecker Taylor At night when I’m alone I ponder aneurisms blood clots and flesh eating bacteria how I like my legs and want to keep them attached to the rest of my body. Aspirin and Neosporin arm the coffee table weapons in an invisible war fought mostly in…

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