Poetry

Primitive

Allison Thorpe

Primitive

 

Now you want to make her faceless
fling the greedy spit of acid
splatter domination
through iris and cornea
gouge socket and cartilage
peel skin like moldy wallpaper
crater the nose
flame tongue
hiss the shiny curl
etch that raw slick of bone

She has already married away her name
you keep her from driving
walking alone
owning property
boarding a plane
getting an education
choosing who she loves
and it still remains an honor to kill her

But you forget how elemental …

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Two Poems by Sarah Escue

Sarah Escue

ON NIGHTS WHEN I AM MOTHERLESS

 

Through the limbs of an ash
tree, ash filters, reminds me
of the nights we watched the storm
from the front door,
your cigarette smoke
blown through the screen.

Tonight, the mutt’s holler rolls
over the hills like a tongue
over unbrushed teeth.

A wolf spider spins a gossamer
hammock, carries her young
on her back, eats them.
The moon un-
hinges from its socket—.

Still, your silhouette shrinks
in the sky-stone’s sheen.
Still, the petals …

/ Read ›

Amputee

Marissa Stephens

Amputee

 

The first time I witnessed my son’s boner,
I gasped, then pretended not to see it,

proceeded to help him into Spiderman
underpants as he looked down

and laughed. This was not
what I had in mind when he

grew through me and out,
an enigmatic ball of my fragments

somehow forming a living thing that
wasn’t me but was, pulled from my body

like an amputated internal appendage,
and now I sometimes can’t stop myself

from …

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Two Poems by Anne Champion

Anne Champion

SALLY RIDE WATCHES THE CHALLENGER EXPLODE

 

I know what it is to be boxed in hot light,
ushered into more darkness, pinpricked
by the flamed needle of stars. All my life,

I carried the weight of planetary anxieties.
Fire propelled me as it propels a shuttle—
Do you cry when the job gets too hard?

No, but when The Challenger bursts
and my friends turn into a firework display
of smoke, and everyone curiously …

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The Disappearing Woman

Ellie Rogers

We scrub March sludge, soak up
marsh chorus in our shared porcelain

tub under cloud-clad sky. We dive in
to the rain-clad quarry with naked acrobats.
I notice my body does not match.

/ Read ›