Stefanie Kirby A daughter pops arils into floral stains. Elsewhere: leftover pips solid as teeth, fruit lips curled back in decay. A mouth packed with loss. To be this apathy of...
Melissa McEver Huckabay I made her out of confetti and spackle, sawdust, plaster of Paris, blood. Added magazine strips with cut-out words: Willowy. Bright. Christ-like. Glued...
Hailey June Gross after Jericho Brown and SZA lie by myself at night, let hands trace lips, puzzle- piece together the tips—what i really mean is they dip in my pussy. stop ’em in...
Jane Feinsod where the head splits open and a goat crawls out. Like it knows something. Takes a tongue to water. Pisses toward Nebraska. Curls into a bushel of honeysuckle. Suspects nothing,...
Cassie Flint Fancher After three days at sea eating fried food and on-demand ice cream, velcroing seasickness bracelets to our wrists, and wiping our lips on towels folded like swans, my mother...
Samuel Ellington And the barn on my left reads get right with God. There’s a gravel-road token that we can make home. Cut grass, gasoline, and I laughed when they told me the Lord is three...
Sara Burge down our street screaming, his voice chasing like a pissy wasp. Sometimes he’s an Apache helicopter. Sometimes Baby’s a mouse on a rug. Sometimes their fights are a riff on last...
p. hodges adams 2024 Poetry Spring Contest Winner the first hand had square knuckles, like a boy; the second hand could hold a teacup neatly; the third hand was furious. i’m getting ahead of...
