A House Is Not a Home Luther Vandross 1981
Poetry by Ellen June Wright
Poetry by Ellen June Wright
In the beginning they eroded green stars / split and turned them red, hiccuped / the line between what was ancient and / what is palpable. Knocked the wind out of diplomats /
Poetry by Sofia Skavdahl
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Second Place Winner in the 2019 Ada Limón Autumn Poetry Contest
My first love consumed me / fast, the way an oyster / which slides unbroken past the teeth / is pressed apart by the tongue. / She was the first women my mouth / knew and from the very first, / in that dirty pink-tile bathroom, / I understood how it felt / to want something until my lips / went raw.
Poetry by Kate Leland
Awarded Third Place in the 2019 Ada Limón Autumn Poetry Contest
Once, I gave my mother a memoir, I Just Lately / Started Buying Wings. There was a mother in it / like my mother’s mother: cold then slightly warmer / as my mother grew, as her tennis shoes climbed / closer to gas pedal and brake
Poetry by Lucas Jorgensen