as a child / when i couldn't sleep, / i'd slink into my parents' bedroom / and tickle my father's calloused feet
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Ghost Child by Danusha Laméris
Only he is not my son. / He’s the one I was expecting that season / my belly grew taut as a honeydew.
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The Fall by Morgan Riedl
The fear of heights is more common in women, but I inherited my fear from my father. He fell out of my life’s orbit when I was 8. I have a hard time safely locating myself in space and time, so I orient myself in relation to others: my father (before he left), my mom (before I left).
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Everything Beautifully Sideways by Laura Minor
We sit and talk away the coolness of soil / until no one mistakes this for anything else, / and we are just a tangle of luxury in the grass, / a triangle of bodies holding up the sky--
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Mother, May I? by Melissa Lore
Mother, did I make you proud?
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Mermaid Tears by John Poch
He cannot fathom the stained glass of their eyes, / one girl Mediterranean blue and one a simple hazel / of the island colors here, a hillside mix / of stone pine green and brown volcanic soil.
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Do You Eat Monkey Brains? by Arvin Ramgoolam
What did the future have in store for me when my only cultural touchstones were Apu from The Simpsons, the evil Mola Ram, and the village of starved, tattered clothed Indians offering the hero their last bits of rice?
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A Normal Interview with Khaty Xiong by Jer Xiong
A lot of things have changed me as a poet since 2015, but what these changes have ultimately revealed is that I cannot live without poetry. I need it to commune with the living, to commune with the dead, and to meet the many burdens of grief that come with being alive.
Read MoreAmerikan Swamp by Sonya Bilocerkowycz and Chris Stevens
Recall how deep the roots that gulp this ground. There is no draining what’s already drowned.
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Reclaiming a Name by Negesti Kaudo
For years, I’d pronounced my own name wrong because it was easier, it fit into other people’s mouths better. My mom wants me to embody my name. 'I gave you a strong name,' she says.
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Fountain Square by Emma DePanise
Face-up underwater gazing up bright, the rippled / branches were always more mesmerizing in motion
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Two Poems by Brett Hanley
You found a map, / but someone spilled brine all over it, / and you can't read the names of the places / you're supposed to go.
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My Mother in the Night by Jane Medved
she has disconnected / from earth, and is not responsible / for me. / She is shrinking / but too hard to lift.
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Seams by Rachael Inciarte
i am obsessed with things in pieces / forever finding my fingers inside the seams / ripping into them because they beg to be open ed up
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Birds of Prey by John Sibley Williams
Just another slow-moving dawn / & birds of prey break it like bones
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Much Too Real To Ever Disappear: Sound Affects @ 40 by Joe Bonomo
Sound Affects has never left my head. When I listen, the music washes over me in sensations, in snatches of images and phrases, singsong/singalong melodies competing against slashing guitars.
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Chicory by Pascha Sotolongo
My father can be very beguiling. I don’t want to get too drawn into his bizarre world. I feel weird enough as it is, without the chicory: Cuban in a town with no other Cubans, gangly, smart, hairy, socially awkward, and I’m never bored.
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Make a Wish by Jean Synodinos
Words carved with an urgent affection that seems everlasting but always fades when stripped and sanded to dust by a nameless janitor over summer vacation. Words like these: Julie, I wish this was enough. All the love I’ve left in this world is yours.
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Invasive Species by Sara Moore Wagner
And there they are, our little / babies in the pond moss wetland / of the yard, all blonde amidst / the fallen limbs, the jagged lines / of timber.
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A Normal Interview with torrin a. greathouse, by Angel Gonzales
I often know — or think I know — that I have found the right language for relating an experience when the act of speaking a poem out loud makes me shake.
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