Raya Tuffaha And what if I damn you? If I write the explosion in stageable italics, if I poeticize and profit-size and donate and educate, what if I learn your language and boundaries, then what?...
Mandy Shunnarah Nobody ever asks who baked the bread, coaxed the yeast & flour with alchemy, or beckoned its rise with knuckles & patience. Nobody asks who smoked the fish, much...
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,...
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...
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...
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...
caroline ganci patterson half of the story i was telling had a moral about perversion, but i leave that part out for the saccharine tongue lickers. i say to my mother, the price of gas on the...
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...
