after Dorothy Parker “And rip the hearts of men in half And toss the bits away” - Dorothy Parker I dream too much of tearing your heart from the cocoon of your chest. I dream too much about revenge followed by redemption, for women, for … Continue reading Watch it burn
for Aimée Divisions had already been drawn before you were born — our blood would be thick but we were pulled from different rivers, silt running down our thighs: I remember the morning I held you, brushing distance from your brow and learning your name, just as you would learn mine — stumbling over … Continue reading Sand sisters
with you / or in your arms / with stones in my pockets / or kissing the sea. Alone / watching the sky / turn primrose pink / sprawled across the floor / giggling delirium / with alcohol in my bones. Sat at cliff edges / vertigo / wrapping cold hands / around my wrists … Continue reading Where I belong & things I shouldn’t say:
The smell of summer mud drifts in from the Estuary, invites itself into the village, wearing flowers for a crown. It proclaims June and beetles free themselves from my winter sleeves. And the bees, living in the chimney, bow and buzz in the ecstasy of the mud’s arrival; the tide singing along to … Continue reading I am June
I ask the crickets for their song; graze my palms across static wheat; invite the breeze to kiss my cheeks. I am adorned in the hum of life; a melody of perseverance, the thrum of legs raising an unending chorus. I eagle my arms left to right and fall into the long grass; a sea … Continue reading About crickets
after Olivia Snowdrop Imagine us / sat around a fire / the three of us / with darkness nestled / between our shoulders / between the years. Imagine aeroplane trails / above us / the impermanence of pollution / masquerading as clouds / the three of us / wishing we could float / and disappear. … Continue reading The three of us
I wailed a welcome - baring ribs between my teeth. Adam’s. Before I crumpled, converted to sheets left in the cold to dry, dresses hung above steamy showers, creases pushing themselves away with nervous hands. I learned quiet. I learned how swiftly fire burns, not when played with but when held unflinchingly close to your … Continue reading A definition of womanhood
Meyer’s second poetry collection, Tempest, is an absolute joy to read. A departure from the Gothic, horror style of Haunt, Tempest cradles its reader in bittersweet nostalgia and Meyer’s storytelling and surrealism come into their stride. In the preface, Meyer talks about the dichotomy between the beauty of imagery and underlying pain often conveyed in … Continue reading Review of Tempest, Ryan Meyer
The Fortunes by Peter Ho Davies shares four stories from varied Chinese American perspectives. Each story, spanning two hundred years, explores and charts the relationship between China and America, how those who have immigrated or have been born in America attempt to find a home in America while struggling to call China home. Davies captures … Continue reading Review of The Fortunes, Peter Ho Davies
after Emily Perkovich Between these pages you will find the witnesses to the ink staining the soft side of our palms. Our truth gleaming in mottled gold, rivulets of alloy for every heart we have broken, most often our own. We are bruised - too honest for your own good. Hiding in plain sight; taking … Continue reading The Poet as an Open Book
