By Jim Johnstone
is just a garden, really.
A plot of land where you might reach down
to touch the snow
and crystallize.
…
A plot of land where you might reach down
to touch the snow
and crystallize.
…
Explore Poems: Health & Illness
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- By Ellen June WrightWhen you wake from a troubled sleep,
after you’ve used the bathroom, don’t go back.
Walk down the hall… - By Stanley PlumlyThe euphemism is “infusion” when confusion is what happens, and depends on no time in particular especially…
- By Bruce BondWe would only get so far,
given the casualties
buried in each point of view.
This one, this one, this… - By Georgio RussellWithin this simple chapel, located near the navel
of the little clinic, the walls are all the white
of… - By Rochelle Hurt[as jumping from a plane. easier—a bridge. as tripping on a shoelace. as blinking your eyes. as breathing…
- By Peter KlineIf we’re put here long enough, someone’s bound to learn something. The sweep of the second hand erases…
- By Brittany PerhamThe doctor tells her what she can’t eat
no grains no nuts no beans no sugar a tomato is OK
but no skins… - By Ross WhiteI’m not the first man to lose his father
slowly, not the first to wonder
when I walk in the room if the… - By Stefania GomezFiremen cut the car open like a cake but when
they reached through the windshield to pull me out
they … - By Mickie KennedyA house with a pool missing tiles.
Another house, foundation cracked,
the whole left half off-kilter,
like… - By Brittany CavallaroI kept the six of spades tacked to my corkboard
and when I had a bad day, I imagined some
exhortation … - By Kimberly Johnsoni
The last time I lost you, I had turned
To salt. The hospice nurses all assured
An easier passing… - By Tacey M. AtsittyPulp lines the lips, blood
orange smoothie unfolds itself
slowly down the throat.
Air bubbles try to settle… - By Shubhi SahniDownload the descriptive transcript You’ll wake up in the middle of the night with
shooting pain
Your … - By Lesley YoungeThe first time
I tell someone I’ve thought about
ending it
is right after the first time
someone tells me… - By Martha SilanoBecause why not? Why not take the smashed pinecone
of my life, render it in purple? Why not dream of… - By Martha SilanoIs this the last time I’ll admire the guys
in their neon-yellow slickers, guiding us
to our parking spots… - By Carmen Calatayudmy body at the water’s edge of opioid comfort
under the brain’s night sky
rounding the blue curve … - By Michelle OteroAfter the stroke our father lost the word
light switch
asked me to
press the wall so a world could open…