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Turd
Twelve inches, specific as a nail,
J.T. Ledbetter
Notes Toward a Treatise on the Atlantic Periwinkle
None knows the song devoted to winkles.
Jennifer Atkinson
A BAT IN THE HOUSE
swoops high, webbed little arms for
Marianne Boruch
Train to Naples and “It’s Awful Plain”
Five ceramic half-ducks flew up the wall.
Kate Northrop
DOMINION HELD AND ALTERED BY CHILDREN
Feral children leave the inside screens
Bruce Smith
The Conversations I Remember Most | As A Hammer Speaks to a Nail
The way a sweet cake wants
Jane Hirshfield
Hyphen
Blue-black on my inked page,
Joan Larkin
Two Poems
burdens are from
Hank Lazer
Antonio Gamoneda, from Book of the Cold (World Poetry Books, May 2022) translated from Spanish by Katherine M. Hedeen and Víctor Rodríguez Núñez
You smell the wet linens, your acids.
Antonio Gamoneda
The Insurgency of Tears is to Eradicate Sadness and Hold Joy as Close as the Moon
Mike’s at The Whitney.
Matthew Lippman
OLD HUSBAND’S TALES
I’m one who tells old husbands’ tales, not wives’,
Sydney Lea
Crucifixion
One minute he’s looking at you, full-size, in anguish,
Dore Kiesselbach
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