by Nancy Swallow Somerfeld On paper, I had a sister But none I could call a friend. Yes, I know Sue was ill, No fault of her own, Still, I longed for a pal Who would know me, get me, Not the paranoid specter, The schizophrenia that robbed her Of…
Poetry Posts
Mama
by Nancy Swallow Somerfeld Mama was a brave woman. That’s how I see her life. Most thought her meek, a stay-at-home wife, A mother of six, knuckling out three meals a day. We walked home for lunch: hot soup, piled With croutons and ham on seeded rye. All stacked up…
Johnny
by Nancy Swallow Somerfeld Boy, aloft, swinging on A rope over the ravine, landing Tiptoe on the shale, the grass skidding Wet underneath, no slippage For my brother who knew nothing Yet Of crashes into the river of life, drowning, Gasping, sucking for air. It didn’t hit him till he…
Going Out
by Sally Cragin the things they carried Aquanet hand-maidensalways in pairs,fishnets, Doc MartensMascara’d black staressmoking in tandem,sauntering downstairs Boys give them a glancebut they’re slightly shit-faced(a bottle of Jack in that purse –next to Mace) Oh, those purses – so stylishfrom skinned vinyl leopardsor dragon-skin sacks stitchedout of Auntie’s old…
Memories and Love, Unspoken
by Cat Hannon My last memory of you –The nurse ripping the pain patch from behind your ear.Pain crossed your face – the crinkle and frown, burnt into my memory.I felt your pain as you faded from this world.Within the hour, you and Grandma would be reunited…Finally, and forever. You…
Great Blue Heron
by D.R. James Look, I want to love this world as though it’s the last chance I’m ever going to get to be alive and know it. …
Maybe One Day
by Andi Garrison (This poem contains domestic abuse.) Maybe one dayyour bruises won’t burn my skin.Promises you left behindwon’t hurt time and time again. Maybe one dayvivid memories will fade.The only scars left herewill be the marks from my blade. Maybe one daymy reflection won’t break my heart.With every passing…
Sod
by Maggie Swofford We watchedthe flowersfold underthe summersun—105°windchill—we lookedout my bed-room window. I baked andcaked mymakeup on bythe windowsillonly to haveit drip off. The flowervase toreoff itsstandduring aviolentstorm,and wethrew ourlaundryat eachother asnights grewdim andhot. The nextday, everyday, we’dcross ourlegs andfoldthe wrinkledfabric backinto somethingwe couldwear.
Between Commas
by Brandy Christiansen Place commas on both sides of meso that I may be omittedI am just a minor detailand to me you need not be committed.Do I truly fit in your life story?Or would I just be out of place?Would you leave me out of your memoir?Or put me…
Somewhere on Sycamore Street
by Darcie Raridon Need for a fatherfelt like a pox.So, I buried minein a box-top-box.It’s stuffedfull of lessons,he never taught,wrapped in clotheshe never bought,and I scribbledhis obituaryon the first, andonly postcardI ever got.