by grace (ge) gilbert
If the villain is absence, I write over and over again, then all we see are reactions to it. / Villain once meant peasant, low-born. / It’s easy to mislay the villain if the villain is negative space.
Read Moreby grace (ge) gilbert
If the villain is absence, I write over and over again, then all we see are reactions to it. / Villain once meant peasant, low-born. / It’s easy to mislay the villain if the villain is negative space.
Read Moreby Sophie Hoss
And this is what it is: / A hand up my shirt in the quickening violet, / a caul of dusk holding galaxies of night. / It isn’t honest, but it’s all I have.
Read Moreby Dani Janae
I have yet to meet a snake in South Carolina. / My brother tells me a story of his front yard, / a hole in the ground. His neighbor charges
Read Moreby Dana Murphy
We met on opposite sides of a door— / swift as a kiss of steel splits fresh wood / our smiles unbridled a careful follow me, / returning our fingers to their pastmost forms:
Read Moreby Erin Robinsong
The ocean is as close as the cunt / you come from & now it’s like we // never met, some irrelevance far / from our star, the metropole
Read Moreby Julie Triganne
I was cast as the dove in a church recital: / “I am the dove of Christ.” Five years old, / I held a paper-plate bird. If the dove means salvation, / reconsider salvation. Pluck feathers from the gravy.
Read Moreby Stephanie Yorke
the little debit / machine says ma-ma-ma / to get the satellite’s attention / by now she’s impervious / so he uses her first name
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