‘She named the major constellations
while I gawked at them and reached out to touch.’
Tag: writing
COMFORT FOODS // TWO POEMS – Daniele Nunziata
I’ve tried planting potatoes since you left,
but they never grow the way they did for you.
ONE POEM – Bronwen Wilson
I imagine turning into
a flamingo, likes the ones
on my onesie that I’m dying
to wear.
COMFORT FOODS // Flour and Oil — Jacey de la Torre
Those are some peoples’ stories, some peoples’ histories, but they aren’t ours.
ONE POEM – Iona May
When did writing
become such a warm meeting place?
ONE POEM – Krysia Wazny McClain
Akademicheskaya Metro Station Sixty-four meters underground: vaulted ceilings whiter than eggshells, chrome shinier than any American diner. Pride of Lenin, who, mummified, did not see it open but extolled its nominal achievement by plaque five meters tall. On the escalator, my hand in a grey fingerless glove finds yours. A second couple kiss…
ONE POEM – Sarah Degner Riveros
Mama hugs
her son. Can we get
horchata? No. Not today.
It’s Tuesday. Treinta tacos?
De asada? Para llevar.
The wait’s worth it.
COMFORT FOODS // Cutlets – V.M. Braganza
Cutlets (also called potato chops), much like my family and their language, resist any attempt at tidy or singular classification.
You die if you worry – Robert Scott
You die if you worry, die if you don’t. I laughed the first time he said it. I hadn’t heard it before.
ONE POEM – Elden Morrow
It is June and the foxgloves are in bloom.
In two days it shall be my birthday.
TWO POEMS – Elizabeth Stott
We made the heads of Styrofoam
so not to be too heavy on their frail necks.
Hearts? Simply-fashioned, from lumps of stone.
ONE POEM – Katherine Fallon
Finding them dead on returning from vacation,
she flushed her six African Cichlids.
