there is nothing separating us but a few inches of cold metal, through which his questions stream like water through a sieve.
FICTION | NONFICTION | POETRY |
TRANSLATION
SUBMIT STORE DONATE OPPORTUNITIES
OUR LATEST ISSUE
INTERVIEWS WRITERS WE PUBLISH
All tagged poem
there is nothing separating us but a few inches of cold metal, through which his questions stream like water through a sieve.
he never smiles, only glares at the camera
like he’s looking right into your soul,
and wanting you.
there is no liquid like grief—
the moon pulls it all,
and my body responds,
begins to bleed.
Cheeks wet with tears, I croak—Jessica, you are the biggest fucking cunt in Somerville.
She giggles like a female alien, inhales serenely, and says Thank you.
I put on my suit every day for work.
It takes three hours.
“The moth doesn’t hear him, flies right back to the dads’ flamethrowers and you can’t stop it, can’t stop anything. To the moth all fire is sun.”
“under house lights you move / through hallways backstage like it’s a sin / to inhabit your own skin”
“I am a God fearing man / depending on who asks / But between you and me / God does not exist”
“lingering mysteries I knew / I would never know: a boy who / drank rivers…”
“The wildlife / rescue continues to tell me who / survives, who passes.”
“they thought a ballistic missile / would drop. First, the realization: / no shelter, no basements
“Not everyone can tolerate at the speed of light”
“the straight shot / the long shot / the parting shot / indiscriminate in the dark…”
“…Nothing prospered across the land / Until she came out of her trance.”
“I wonder what violence will / find me today. A deer’s teeth.”
“easy to find the tension in the root. / The give. The take.”
“You fooled me. Your ability to / thrive without needing…”
“I've come to learn: Packages / and bad news arrive regardless”