Poetry Tag
26 May Flickerlight, By Angelina Farag
The room holds its breath in the flicker— Light that lingers just long enough to tempt, To carve silhouettes but never truths. A mere tease: Fingertips brushing waistbands; A figure shifting in the half-glow; Beauty haunting the edges of sight— Close enough to ache for, never long enough to hold. A window opens— A...
26 May The Dancing Plague, By James Edward Kennedy
Strasbourg, Alsace 1518 It’s the sin that begins without a sound, Like a spark in the dark with none around. It tickles the funny bone; plays with the toes. It’s a sneeze of the body and not of the nose. It’s a tremble, a tremor, a merciless need. It rumbles within—green, terrible...
26 May And still, By Noah-James Bruce
Creased brow and cracked teeth Biting. Wrenching skin that pulls from the nail bed, Till it bleeds. Red eyes and rough hands Choking the pen, slicing the paper, Carving out the answer. An answer. Any answer. Just as long as it’s on the page. Get it out, get it down, ...
26 May The Thaw, By Leah Pleasants
Her hunger is a quiet thing, etched into sunken skin stuck between protruding ribs, an arctic coat thinned and stained, smeared with the grime of survival. Beneath her, the sheet of white is no longer infinite; porcelain stretched too thin over the swell of deep waters The world has grown smaller...
26 May Claresholm, By Kailee Owen
There’s somebody in a sheer white gown Sitting in a wood- panelled parlor, Off the 2 on the 7, Sipping English breakfast tea and waiting for a warning. Waiting for a waltz or a foxtrot By the cinematic lights of a rundown gas station, Where the red and white dirty Petro-Can...
26 May Gemini Rising / From the Pleiades, By Gwendolen Hickey
Some time ago, I went to the moon,found a sea to sit by and went fishing in the tranquil blue,cast off into the solar rays, basking in the stellar waves,not knowing I was waiting for you.Did you come from the Pleiades—which star went dark when...
15 May Relative Abundance, by Tia Dias
The cosmos leans on repetition– stars scattered, light returning again and again until the night becomes whole. Life here moves the same way. Days blur together– lectures and deadlines, highlighters bleeding into the night, coffee cups orbiting laptops. At first, it all feels ordinary, but meaning gathers silently, constellations stitched from the smallest moments. It is the...
15 May Full Eavestrough, by Iulia Rus
Sidewalk leaves blown in miniature tornados, Swirling, swishing ballerinas paired in the tango. Time and growth demonized, autumn decay romanticized. Not so satisfying, once it’s muddy, wet and full of sticks. It doesn’t itch, it doesn’t crunch, it’s stuck in the eavestrough. Why am I like this? Limbs, twigs, turned featherlight, Caught...
15 May Returned, by Kaiya Mongrain
(pu-pum—pu-pum) As my skin pulls apart, the soft tissues of my nose collapsing, the banquet blooms within my ribbed cathedral, The grubs and fungi break open casks, viscid blood settling at the bottom of my cellars. They toast with elation to my life, give thanks for their meal, and devour me in the...