Poetry Archives - Page 9 of 30

The Disappearing Woman

Nov 19, 2016 | Poetry, Reading Room

With her new magic, she makes you invisible. With her new magic, she makes you invisible. The women with black eyes do not see you, in your bare sleeves, your tired, unmarked face. The women with black eyes can say doorknob. Can say staircase and fell down. She...

On Receiving Bad News

Nov 18, 2016 | Poetry, Reading Room

We, women, grew hungry, ate from a pile of unassuming, pleasant rocks. They fell down our throats, slipped into the blankness of our bodies. We, women, grew hungry, ate from a pile of unassuming, pleasant rocks. They fell down our throats, slipped into the blankness...

for play

Nov 18, 2016 | Poetry, Reading Room

This is a game for girls: putting a hat on the cat, putting pants on the cat, drawing a turkey by tracing her hand. Little girls like cats. 1 This is a game for girls: putting a hat on the cat, putting pants on the cat, drawing a turkey by tracing her hand. Little...

Penknife

Nov 18, 2016 | Poetry, Reading Room

I don’t remember much of the train, but I remember William who gave me his engraved penknife at the station I don’t remember much of the train, but I remember William who gave me his engraved penknife at the station that spring in Pisa. Jordan at the other end in...

Back, Cover

Nov 18, 2016 | Poetry, Reading Room

When I finish my first book, I wonder who'll blurb the unsubstantiated blows my father landed upside my head. “An unforgettable voice in fiction.” When I finish my first book, I wonder who'll blurb the unsubstantiated blows my father landed upside my head. “An...

Loyalty and Violence

Nov 18, 2016 | Poetry, Reading Room

When I finally told you that my first boyfriend raped me, I was worried you would be mad When I finally told you that my first boyfriend raped me, I was worried you would be mad I hadn’t told you sooner. You and Dad believed so innocently that you could keep me safe...

No Comment

Nov 17, 2016 | Poetry, Reading Room

I’ve heard there is a room where hooded women enter, writing dates on the wall with the torn edge of their finger. I’ve heard you can cipher the numbers to bodies, to the graceless edge of some men’s beds. Is I’ve heard there is a room where hooded women enter,...

White house, where some family lived upstairs

Nov 16, 2016 | Poetry, Reading Room

Fear the caging of birds. Strangled and brown. Moving here was like crossing a river, debriefings, scaling back. Clay pots clogged, awkward like an ingrown hair, browning down in the sun. Staring at walls draws a crowd, like a hardened nipple, a tear-streaked thigh....

Boreal Selkie

Oct 14, 2016 | Poetry, Reading Room

I shed my pelt on the shoreline, leaving the warmth of the glossy grey coat to shiver and head for land. I shed my pelt on the shoreline, leaving the warmth of the glossy grey coat to shiver and head for land. I am careful to walk where the water will erase my steps,...

This Will Be Good

Aug 12, 2016 | Poetry, Reading Room

My mother in a rental van idling in the Phoenix Airport parkade. She does a word search, finds “tongue” “bitter” “cochlea” lets a ballpoint pen tell her of her own body. I tap the van window, see her face for the first time in months. It’s been too hot, My mother in a...