3 poems, by Kristina Carpenter

The Cat at Night A cat on my foot, purring,sleek and black as night. alone-not-aloneIn a cavernous roomlight peeks through windowslighting to be seen. another sleepless tomorrowThe bed stirs with the cat,sitting, licking, pacingin circles over and over untilshe finds the right place—not too lumpy or too flaton the blanket,but near enough to my foot…

2 poems, by Dianne Mason        

Voices of Guilt There’s the finger-wagging voice that tsk-tskswhen you turn down a party invitation from your best friendto stay home and binge-watch The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel when you don’t accept a friend request from the guy you metlast weekend at Trader Joe’s, who’s probably just lonely,but gave you the creeps anyway when you forget…

5 Poems, by Suzanne Verrall

There Goes The Neighbourhood we call next doorthe extinct house full of birds and beesand dinosaursthese days it’s such a junglethe parcel guywon’t deliver there when a baiji dolphin orCalifornia grizzly bear knockson my door by mistakeI give them directions and pointto the box of boat orchidson my porch sayingtake that with youwhen you go…

3 Poems by, Eric Roller

Things Left Behind a rake withmissing tines a well-used forkin the alleyof tossed saladand sofacushions a hallowedmulberry tree,home to termitesand Africanizedbees a favorite phraseused during rooftopfireworks 12 miles away,repeated after everylost job or flat tire a friend or twowho followed yousleepily on two-way screensmade of chimera Your hairof golden rodcaught inthe tridentsof shower drains,and guardednow…

3 Poems, by Erin Jamieson

I long I long for silenceand to be heard.I long for rainto clear the skies. I long mostlyto feel againlike I am worthy of love. Fairy Tales There was a woods once. It wasn’t remarkable in any way, and I wouldn’t have remembered it at all, if it were not the place my grandfather used…

Two Poems, by Ada Donnelly

I like you because you’re my kind of weird yesterday my tarot cards said I liked youtoday I smiled because my book said libra and Gemini were a good matchin the raw pounding wind of New York city, I seek succor in your armswe hide out in the Fulton street station talking about how both…

Poetry, by Alex Ewing

I Cannot Say the Word I want to forget you          I want to forget Your hands on me          In ways I didn’t want The feel of your leather seats          Hot on my back The sweat from your skin          Dripping on my face I don’t want you to drive                Down…

Poetry, by Julia Kannewischer

15.3.20the sky isBLUE + OPEN. if I couldgive it to you,I would,SWEETHEART. sitting with allwhat is + beingOK. coming homeTO THE SELFamidst the mess. IT’S JUSToneof these lives. THE SOULwhispered. EARTHtrying toself-regulate. CAN YOUblame her. is this theroaring twenties/ WHAT. . 19.3.20whenthe inside spacesHEAL, the outside spacescan do so,TOO. . EARTHis not kiddinganymore. . +…

2 Poems, by Benjamin Goluboff

Googling the Dead It seems at first like a way of keeping them,of giving them a place in the here and nowyou may pretend not to know they have lost.They can be in this way more quick than dead,their results robust, their vitals vital still.And you may fool yourself in this way,until their footprint contracts,…

A Label, by Jocelyn Saunders

I hate being alone. Well I guess            that’s not entirely true. It’s not like I constantly need attention                         or even like hanging out with people. It’s being alone with nothing to do                                                               to distract, being alone as in sitting in bed                               when everything’s dark                                         breathing heavily as you think of…

3 Poems, by Tanner Howard

I Remember the Night Peaceful(For my Aunt, that she finds peace). I remember the night peaceful before it broke,before the constellations cracked and splitin empty, white-blue shards, fogged up with stars,and the dark dripped in through the runny seams. When You slipped away, left us with nothingbut a phone call. And my uncle made thatat…

3 Poems, by Rc deWinter

being feet swathed inseaweed    sitting at the edge ofthe sea   Ishiver in the cold Aprilwind   gazing at stars they mock me a singer withouta song   adancer withno partner a soldierwithout a weapon but the seasings for me   the wavesconstruct afortress roundmy feet   and in this safe placeI have no need of a weapon the candle…