Poetry 223/04 January 2024
POEM
My Hair Burned Like Berenice
BY RUTH AWAD
Days of rain. The drey outside my window would keel
and the wind would plunder. My heart was valent
with possibility: I could be anyone now, half woman,
half asterism. Fragmental as a new year. Patron saint
of the rutilant and cindering. I could...
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POEM
Toast
BY D. A. POWELL
Said my illness
I’m tired of being
serious all the
time I don’t
like how you
treat me like
we haven’t shared
the same apartments
for eighteen years
long enough to be…
POEM
Anti-Pastoral for Twenty-Faced Pathogen
BY PAMILERIN JACOB
Neither milkweed
nor rose-apple
in Schenck’s Anguish,
only a murder
of crows sprouting
at the perimeter
of a mother’s
suffering. Nature is…
Details
POEM
My Hair Burned Like Berenice
BY RUTH AWAD
Days of rain. The drey outside my window would keel
and the wind would plunder. My heart was valent
with possibility: I could be anyone now, half woman,
half asterism. Fragmental as a new year. Patron saint
of the rutilant and cindering. I could...
Read More
POEM
Toast
BY D. A. POWELL
Said my illness
I’m tired of being
serious all the
time I don’t
like how you
treat me like
we haven’t shared
the same apartments
for eighteen years
long enough to be…
POEM
Anti-Pastoral for Twenty-Faced Pathogen
BY PAMILERIN JACOB
Neither milkweed
nor rose-apple
in Schenck’s Anguish,
only a murder
of crows sprouting
at the perimeter
of a mother’s
suffering. Nature is…