Poetry

Because of their format, several poems that appear in the current issue are included only in pdf. To read them, click on their titles on the right side of this page.

Catherine Stearns

An oval mirror that could fit in a child’s hand
from a pocketbook of her mother’s
for the pond beyond the door

Aaron Fagan

Deplete the ascent, carving up your arms,
Returning flirty glances with the windows.
A film will attend this so don’t bother,

Shane McCrae

I stood on the bridge in the sky on the bridge between
Two buildings     at the second floor but in
Between the buildings so in neither one

Li-Young Lee

We were alive together once.
I thought it was that way from the beginning
of time. And I sang
my songs for him, and he rocked,
squeezing and pulling the accordion in his lap,
while his eyes glistened, shining.

David Baker

A slight wrinkle

David Baker

Here I heard them. Here the big rocks.

Kathleen Winter

a thrush is caught beneath the glass ceiling—
must be a she because of the irony, plus
her coloring is nothing fancy. The racket
woke me at 5:20, I thought a horse

Kathleen Winter

cool mud    a cut
whose red hugs bone
where slag rock sank
through his leather
hide below an eye
all spilling out

Henry Sloss

West of the handsome house the land descends
sharply, levels off in a broad flood plain
above Antietam Creek, and then becomes
its sheared-steep bank. The house and land are mine.
For three or four days following the battle
the Creek ran red, from thousands wounded, dead.

Kate Partridge

It begins, as usual, with the narrative of water: