poetry

The Latest Metamorphosis, by Rebecca Bratten Weiss

  Apollo is stalking again this summer,flaunting his meaty thighs, letting flyhis arrows. Kings summon oracles,ask: Who is the abomination?Whom shall we cast into the wilderness? Heat rolls off our bodies like storms in the desert,but all the pools are cursed. Dive in a woman,come out a monster, leper-lady, bandages unwinding,ringing your little bell. This …

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Water, by Snousha Glaude

Ebbing, water swivels into the groves of mother earth’s spinecollidingcrackingcrashing buoys silently spectatewadingbouncingbobbingsinking i do not feel princess-like wearing this glitterblinded, salty surrender lace collars crocheted from spindles of foamstomach cramping,intestines crunched into submission fingers claw at merciless windsair seeping, escaping Dying,toes caress abrasive sanddisgruntled shells,buried dunes black blood seeks refuge in indigo oceansbuoys pray, …

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The bone moon above Kōdaiji: A Quartet, by Ryu Ando

                                                              i. Who sees the black sakura in the courtyard,           the fruit that weeps on the branch, a tender flesh staining the tips of your fingers – red as your lips?           Who sees the fractal twists of suffering in glints of light on the flagstones? Or your           arthritic hands held up to the sky? Or the …

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Like a Surgeon, With Her Teeth, by Erik Amundsen

When she was three, they left;oak-leaf leather hugged the walls,and her finger, sore, turned red,turned black, the green.The woods brushed against the edgesof the neighborhood surging invisibleagainst invisible doors, ready to burst.The vixen came in first.Latches fell open at the press of fox-nose,whiskers like glass cuttersopened the window, oak-leaf leatherscabbed over the insides, skin of …

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Did God shrink from Adam so, when the dust settled?, by Kristin Fullerton

Daydreams, fervent and vivid ofdesolation, beauty, delight.How heavily my bodyis anchored, how listlessmy shadow passes over cold, famished streets. I am a gloomed man, with the rapid-fire neurons of a lunatic, resolvedto set sail to reach the arc of eternal light. If I fail,                                                                                                                           Star-filled skywhen I fail,                                                                                                    oceans of ice(see how my hope is already changing,                  the …

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Caught by her Red-Stained Hands, by Claire Smith

The red juice incarcerated her;stained fingertips were her judge;her lips dribbled with pomegranate seeds,the jury delivering its guilty verdict. My face plastered across bus shelter glass,on Underground walls illustrating escalator climbs,spread over office-block windows… I can’t leave home without being chased by photo opportunists:newspaper paparazzi, tourists, school children wanting a selfie. I’d rather be an …

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