Category: Poetry
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my father loves me best at the dim sum table
By Sabrina Siew we sit opposite each other, a Sunday tradition. the chrysanthemums pushed down in hot water, like the knees of his tar-haired child on American soil. only one teacup quiet on tablecloth, he doesn’t ask for more, but orders my bing seoi before I can speak. here, I am little, the lazy susan…
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In Praise of Dirt
By David Salner Dirt, dust, and mud; gumbo of ground bone; two million femurs in wet earth of the wide and charming Volga; Tibia shards underfoot near the placid Elbe; not to mention cranium bits along the meandering waters of the Vistula; and the tidal Ota, whose sediment is home to delicate wrists, all those…
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Assisted Living
by Jeanne Bryner Beside his chair walks a shadow but where’s the candle to lift, to light what patron saint protects him? Our town’s wheelchair man, legs bent and angled, crooked feet shod. Long ago he knew the forge; see leather gloves, fingers cut away? Twice a day he slogs himself to town then back.…
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I Want the Sunset That You Want
By Daniel Edward Moore but that doesn’t make me the pastoral police. At least, not over the acres of sky known for their fluffy feel-good frenzy. According to the ocean’s cold crashing hymns in the church of drown, no don’t, there’s little time left for the skin to burn like incense in the temple of…
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An Everyday Affair
Covered in the smoke from a BBQ – still pink on the inside he joked, his way to compensate for being over-prepared…
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Confession to Mom and Dad
Every liar has this one fantasy: casually telling you over breakfast one morning. Without looking up, you’d laugh and say you already knew. I’ve got two boyfriends, one I always lie to, and the other to whom I never tell the truth…
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Pure Fool
We had ham & Brie on our saltines, fortified wine. & even though we were ill met by the needling rain & springtime’s anarchic phlegm, it was a grand picnic…
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A Spell for Finding Lost Things
Theory: the ritual depends on what I’d want to find: (who was)…