Poetry
Poem of the Week
I take what I want, and have ever since what I want disappeared.
Narrative High School Writing Contest
There are elephants in the hall looking for their mothers.
Poem of the Week
A voice like my mother’s nail polish and my father’s lottery tickets.
Poetry
How, like a dream, all the world’s characters are aspects of me.
Poetry
Lately it’s getting harder to say the true thing, to find solace in nature.
Poem of the Week
I couldn’t wait. By the time you return it would’ve rotted on the vine.
Poem of the Week
They’re are all begging to be fed. Changed. Read to. Desperate for milk.
Poem of the Week
They say it is the soul that rises, not the body. But the body does rise—
Poem of the Week
Lufthansa lifts off under me. The set sun disinters, a fanned cinder.
Poetry Contest Winners
I am determined to praise my particular world, so I must praise you.
Poetry
we’ve walked the streets: candied apples on sticks, fish heads.
Poetry
Two softened reeds of rosemary pair, and spin in the white velouté.
Poetry
There is beauty in the way she looks at me over the kitchen table.
Poetry Contest Winners
One who has suffered enough, you can love yourself to death.
Poetry
I can remove my hand the second it becomes too much for me.
Poetry
I screamed every word and waited for the stones to answer back.
Poem of the Week
She stared back at me, a toddler almost hidden in the folds of her skirt.
Poetry
I have to wait till day to tell you that you’ve sunk down below sea level.
Poetry
Her songs, her records—I entered them. I jumped in and out of myself.
Poem of the Week
He took off his clothes and left them on the living room floor.
Poetry
The signal’s too remote and there’s a delay before we can start again.
Poem of the Week
I take Saturday’s unpopulated trains, since there is no safety in numbers.
Poetry
Here we were, seventeen, trapped by the sheer number of bodies.
Poetry
Her voice smelled like an orange, though I’d never peeled an orange.
iPoems
I want to be rapt around your linger, not Thumbelina under your dumb.
Poem of the Week
Through Joan’s window, my childhood. I want this view.
iPoems
My brother, only his son by the way he fixes his tie, blind-fingered.
Poem of the Week
All this while, I am eating the apple in this careless moment of life.
