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Imprint by Anna de Noailles
Translated by Marilyn McCabe I will lean so hard into life, grab so rough and tight that before the soft day ravishes me I’ll have warmed it already in my arms. The sea, spread wide around the world,...
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Intimacy by Karla Linn Merrifield
I have tasted its roots, often, in many places, in many guises—each tree’s roots sustains, so, as magnanimous nitrogen-fixing bacteria, I complement a tropical species; Amazon roots breathe; or a vole...
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These Are the Earth’s Clothes by Paula Brancato
I. fucking in the rose garden a woman pregnant with another man’s child he takes her from behind the scent of pink tea roses bees and thorns twilight to evening petals fall to ground the crush of...
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The Taking Hands by Laura Rockhold
golden root after “Taking The Hands” by Robert Bly hand me what you will, and I will take the thing and make it the offering. it will become a wild flower from your hands’ valleys, perfect and...
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Crown Shyness by Diane Scholl
My daughter, who used to be shy, gave me a lecture on dendrology once. We were up in the Michigan woods; she said some trees know how to give each other space, retracting at the top when other trees...
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The Chinle Formation by Lynn DeTurk
I met the wilding colors of Arizona during my first trip out West. Rooted in sand, mouth open, I stood before a cliff-face of brightly striated colors that changed as the light shifted, as shadows...
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Rain After Moon by Allison Collins
Last night, last night I, too, felt fat with promise, wreathed in pearls, crowned in something celestial, fanciful, and drunk on light. It hung, winking through clouded lilac drapes, pink-edged...
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Leaving the Man Who Beat Me by Autumn Newman
I was unfolding. I needed nothing. I left you there on the roadside with nothing. I was expansive, no longer drowning. I left you there on the roadside with nothing. Under the water’s surface, then...
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Do You See What I’m Saying? by Michael Barrett
Eight, not more than ten, head haloed in dark curls, she slept swaddled in a coat in a dented duct-taped Ford. And he sat, back turned, cloaked in a jean jacket, long hair, beard, on stone-cold steps,...
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When I Saw Wings by Mary Ardery
Still in treatment, she was flipping pancakes before the rest of the group woke up, the batter hissing in the pan. The last of the chocolate chips she used for herself, bananas for everyone else. She...
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