by Sarah Lindsay This mound of dirt and the summer are heirs to transfer from what lies before and what lies behind， pinch by pinch. Of the mound， she...
by Judith Viorst Mother doesn't want a dog. Mother says they smell， And never sit when you say sit， Or even when you yell. And when you come home ...
by Catie Rosemurgy 1 Thank god he stuck his tongue out. When I was twelve I was in danger of taking my body seriously. I thought the ache in my nipple...
by Myronn Hardy She visits me when the lights are out， when the sun is loving another part of the world. She passes through the net I sleep under like...
by Robert Penn Warren I saw the hawk ride updraft in the sunset over Wyoming. It rose from coniferous darkness， past gray jags Of mercilessness， past ...
by Margaret Atwood In the burned house I am eating breakfast. You understand： there is no house， there is no breakfast， yet here I am. The spoon which...
by Suji Kwock Kim I don't mean to make you cry. I mean nothing， but this has not kept you From peeling away my body， layer by layer， The tears clo...
by Joshua Weiner What's that behind my back？ What's that gnawing behind my back？ It sounds like a dog crunching bones for marrow. Bones here s...
by Catherine Doty Your friends won't try to talk you out of the barrel， or your brag to go first， which has nothing to do with bravery. And you...
by Trumbull Stickney It's autumn in the country I remember How warm a wind blew here about the ways！ And shadows on the hillside lay to slumber Du...