Poetry Editor

Taxidermy Bride

After photographs by Francesca Woodman Head first from the bottom shelf, I spill out, sleep-tumbled, mirrored in the yellow eyes of a stuffed vixen. Here, my body in a chair. Stains pool by my feet, or is it my shadow? My shoes wait somewhere. Here, my hands sooty as ...

Two Poems

 girl with diagnosis or gun #10 this is where I always think it is | no | this is where it actually is I don’t know if I’ve tied my dress with bluebirds or with hunger if I’m hungry for a thing I ...

Lavinia Explodes

 As if you can’t lip read. Cut mute, & love— the mad season ended at the point I willingly put my lips around wood to set it in sand. To expose my thin wrists to the elements, to grotesque embrace, & write. As if you ...

Relief

Us and every mammal on earth takes twenty seconds to piss. Imagine that, the great equalizer is between our legs (of course). It doesn’t matter how many warm beers we forced down during bumbling pauses at house parties we never wanted to attend. If we just got ...

Four Poems

Self-Portrait as Jessica with Phoropter and Ursa Minor I. It was like following a map that line by line erased itself until one day it showed blank. It was a compass that failed a little more by the month till it simply spun circles. It was a daily ...