Poems

Tired Sex by Chana Bloch (published in The Atlantic , December 1997 ) Trying to strike a match in a matchbook that has lain all winter under the woodpile: damp sulfur on sodden cardboard. I catch myself yawning. Through the window I watch that sparrow the cat keeps batting around. Like turning the pages of a book the teacher assigned— You ought to read it, she said. It’s great literature.

Sunday Morning, Cumberland Gap by A.E. Stringer published in Still, Summer 2015 Black cat appears under my roadside picnic table....

Autumn by Siegfried Sassoon October's bellowing anger breaks and cleaves The bronzed battalions of the stricken wood In whose lament I...

Autumnal by Louise Glück (from her 1976 book, Descending Figure, The Ecco Press, NY) Public sorrow, the acquired gold of the leaf, the...

October by Robert Frost O hushed October morning mild, Thy leaves have ripened to the fall; Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild, Should waste...

Middle-Aged Karaoke by Timothy Houghton Published in SNReview, Spring/Summer 2008 A big woman jumps out of a booth deftly, avoiding...

The Fury of Beautiful Bones by Anne Sexton (from The Complete Poems, Houghton Mifflin, 1982) Sing me a thrush, bone. Sing me a nest of...

Storm Ending by Jean Toomer (from his 1923 poetic novel, Cane) Thunder blossoms gorgeously above our heads, Great, hollow, bell-like...

A Dirge Melody: Don’t Let the Humans Know We Contain Souls by Elizabeth Upshur published in Mistake House (2017) If you want the pearl...

Shirt by Robert Pinsky (published in his book, The Want Bone) The back, the yoke, the yardage. Lapped seams, The nearly invisible...

My Children Asleep on the Chest of September by Ariana D. Den Bleyker (published in The Mantle, Issue 6, November 2018) It’s an alluring...

Dearborn North Apartments Chicago, Illinois by Lola Haskins Rows of rectangles rise, set into brick. And in every rectangle, there is a lamp. Why should there be a lamp in every window? Because in all this wide city, there is not enough light. Because the young in the world are crazy for light and the old are afraid it will leave them. Because whoever you are, if you come home late but it looks like noon, you won’t tense at the click when you walk in which is probably afte

In Praise of Gray by Jay Rubin (published in The Summerset Review , Summer 2011 ) Gray hair is a crown of splendor —Proverbs 16:31 O how I wish that my wife, just once would not slip through that bathroom door to dye her hair that ungodly brown O how I wish that my wife, just once would let her fallacious hair rinse clear allowing her argent age to shine If only she would, I'd gather each strand some threads white as winter rain others dark as clear champagne O how I'd rej

Forgive My Dearth of Quietude by Praise Osawaru (published in Feral , Issue 3, August 2020) Instead of dreaming, I translate my whirling worries into a standstill; eyes closed, body tendering silence. The night registers my intermittent awakening, on days when my mind depletes quietude. Creaking fan, wintry chill, spilling moonlight; they conduct a fellowship in my room. Pardon me if I mistake the scratching in my wall for the feasting of monsters, or the meowing at ni

Purgatory by Carolyn Martin (published in The Opiate , August 2016) can’t be much worse than this: sitting in the second row while the poet– featured tonight for reasons only the emcee knows–fumbles through a notebook for the next offering he’ll serve up in a voice that hovers somewhere between pseudo-humility and arrogance as he alludes to obscure Italian history and no one has a clue so I’m free to tune out everything but my mind conversing with itself about a metaphor t

On Virtue by Phillis Wheatley O thou bright jewel in my aim I strive To comprehend thee. Thine own words declare Wisdom is higher than a fool can reach. I cease to wonder, and no more attempt Thine height t’explore, or fathom thy profound. But, O my soul, sink not into despair, Virtue is near thee, and with gentle hand Would now embrace thee, hovers o’er thine head. Fain would the heaven-born soul with her converse, Then seek, then court her for her promised bliss. Auspicio

Our Idea of Nothing at All by Alice Duer Miller “I am opposed to woman suffrage, but I am not opposed to woman.”—from an anti- suffrage speech by Mr. Webb of North Carolina O women, have you heard the news Of charity and grace? Look, look, how joy and gratitude Are beaming in my face! For Mr. Webb is not opposed To woman in her place! O Mr. Webb, how kind you are To let us live at all, To let us light the kitchen range And tidy up the hall; To tolerate the female sex I

The Gift by Ed Ochester (from A Geography of Poets , edited by Edward Field, Bantam Poetry, 1979) One day as I was lying on the lawn dreaming of the Beautiful and my wife was justifiably bitching out the window at my shiftlessness and the baby was screaming because I wouldn't let him eat my cigarettes, a tiger cat leaped over the fence, smiled at my wife, let the baby pull his tail, hummed like a furry dynamo as I stroked him. My wife took the car to get him some food, my

Crossroads by Joyce Sutphen (published in her book, Straight Out of View , 1996 by Holy Cow! Press) The second half of my life will be black to the white rind of the old and fading moon. The second half of my life will be water over the cracked floor of these desert years. I will land on my feet this time, knowing at least two languages and who my friends are. I will dress for the occasion, and my hair shall be whatever color I please. Everyone will go on celebrating the o

Diary of a Carpenter Wasp by Gary L. McDowell (from his chapbook, They Speak of Fruit, published in 2009 by Cooper Dillon) I sing the...