Poetry - Year III - Number 13 - May 2018

MY PANTRYBy Rikki Santer My Pantry Crowded with shelves it knows how to shelvecanisters of worry that pretend to be hermetic and brave. Good at orderly conductbut bad at assortment and prayer. When you gingerly open its louver...

LUSTBy Stephanie Daich Where’s Daddy “Where’s daddy,” his daughter cries through the night.“Where’s daddy,” his precious cries at first light.He had been there so often to tuck her inAnd always there with his morning grin. Her face...

OPEN UPBy Roger Singer OPEN UP  There was an unwillingnessof movement.A stretch like tree topsin a tempest.A few indistinguishable wordsslipped clumsily into the air.The visions were intangible;the onesyou think you touch butfail to feel.It was a...

NAVELBy Edward Lee MOURNING The trees outside my windoware weeping leaves,not in sympathyto the pain in my heartat your sharp sudden absence,but simply becauseautumn has fallen. NAVEL Every time,without fail,before they make love,she picks fluff from his navel;there...

A SONNET TO MY HUSBANDBy Cassidy Manley  A Cancer Poem He died on a September dayBut you could sayHe died all yearOr forty sixIt rises from his skin like mistAnd dew-like, settles onThe couchWe threw awayBut...

L’ARUME DA LLISBOApor Jose Manuel SÁNCHEZ TIMES SQUARE Times Square.Marzu, 2017.La Hestoria convidomea chumar un treitu.La Hestoria,-díxome ella-fai tiempu que punxo’l so llaren Nueva York.Ye un bon llugar-díxome ella-,pa decatasede que de xemes en cuanduye posiblealgamar...

     THE INCESSANT PRAYERby Olga Kawecka     All will be just for the better.Do not listen to the world,Whose speech is but a clatterFrom the hollows of Naught.2017    How the Gothic world laughs by its joking gargoylesAt this...

AT HALF-PAST TENBy Souzi Gharib  J.F.K. In Massachusetts, Brookline, an ailing childWas born to an ancient Irish clan,A lineage of kings, heroes and bards. For History and English he had a flairBut he had a date with...

SUNWASHED AND WASTEDBy John Sweet a beautiful failure like dogs runningthrough frozen fields like february sunlight ondirty ice blue skies cut by powerlines anddying gods left where they lie abandoned factoriesand empty warehouses this is the place meaningless words castingdistorted shadows...

DEAR HERONBy Danielle Hanson Dear Heron You have grown tired of my presence.I am a ghost haunting the wrong house.You are the knowing inhabitant of my ineffectiveness.I am what happens in the hour when clocks fall...