A carpet of moss exhales inside an abandoned temple. A lone figure scrapes grime from a row of faded headstones. He brings flowers to a sunken patch of grass—chrysanthemum, hyacinth, pink lily mid-bloom—& lights a white candle beside the bouquet. Pacing the soil above his love’s stripped bones, upon the damp ground he kneels. Summer …
She’s a healthy mussel. . . . She’s a wicked mussel. She’s a sliver of the liver of a river whose liver is sick. An ugly river, voluble with its complaints. I had this story from precisely such a river. Well, and so the credence you accord to trickling notes diluted and caught up in …
On a Friday in June 2022 the nurse practitioner warned my husband, Brad, and me that it might be too soon to hear our baby’s heartbeat. “If we don’t hear anything,” she said, “I don’t want you to worry.” For the next few minutes, as she finicked with the Doppler and cocked her head this …
As a child, I puzzled over the biblical story of Eve’s creation from one of Adam’s ribs: “And the LORD God caused a deep sleep to fall upon Adam, and he slept: and He took one of his ribs, and closed up the flesh instead thereof; And the rib, which the LORD God had taken …
in the ER, on the gurney, white-sheeted, not yet cold. I fall on him. The husk of him. Still beautiful, that body. Long, lean, pleasingly hirsute. I love your fur, I used to giggle, stroking an arm, a leg. The nurses, the orderly, the so-young doctor recede, a sucking back my skin registers: their gaze …
(To use the PDF embedder to see all pages of the poem, use the arrows on the bottom left-hand side.) Weijia Pan is a poet and translator from Shanghai, China. His poems have appeared in AGNI, Boulevard, Copper Nickel, Georgia Review, Poetry Daily, and elsewhere. He is the winner of the 2023 Max Ritvo Poetry …
There was so much quicksandin the movies when I was a kid,so that’s what I think of as I watchan ant thrash on the carnivorous leafof a butterwort plant, each attemptto free itself from the viscid tongueonly making the situation worse,a dawning panic as it lifts a legand with its mandibles tries to snip offone …
The 14A District Court stands near the cornerof Washtenaw and Carpenter, presiding overthe busiest intersection in the whole city, which meanswhen you’re being taken into custody, you can counton having a little extra time to wait. I cried at that light.My father told me to find a dunce cap for having the gallto pick a …
Luminous—the ink you pouraround bullet holesto paint blooms pain turned topetals, terror—tostyle and stigma Ovaries fill withjuice, and we too learn:lives are fragile & can get broken As for life, it says yesAlways—yes No usedenying it Oksana Maksymchuk is the author of poetry collections Xenia (Piramida, 2005) and Lovy (Smoloskyp, 2008) in the Ukrainian. Her …
1 On All-You-Can-Eat A sentence is not always a consequence waiting to happen.The edges of the park were yellow-taped from the public.When the first man landed on the moon, I only wanted to gohome. No one listens to the radio after the hurricane makeslandfall. I dreamt of walls papered with ripped bougainvillea.People always say the …
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