Poetry

Poetry Class with Ellen

By

Poems swing from the clothesline strungbetween earth and skyShe wears the soft shawl of sunriseher words like silkrunning through our fingersan offeringa melodic string of pearls

Poetry

Divorce Day

By

Nancy Bauer-King

Afraid I will fall in love againwith his honey-colored wisps of hairand sturdy sinewed armsI wear a new red dressa fiery shield from regret

Poetry

Head Cheese

By

Nancy Bauer-King

In dim lightGrandma sits at her tableshaving fat and fleshfrom the pig’s skullswick swick swickher knife slicesthrough bristled skinpast cartilage and brain

Poetry

Nighthawks

By

Janet Leahy

Edward Hopper, 1942—Art Institute, Chicago

He sits at the counterof the café, keeps his hat on,a grey fedora, maybe thinkinghe won’t stay long.

Poetry

Bakers

By

Karen Loeb

My mother wasn’t a bakerin the ordinary sense. Nothree-tiered cakes with strawberriesmarching the frosty perimeters.No éclairs sliding from the ovenfor treats on Sundays. Sure,

Poetry

In the Science Museum

By

Karen Loeb

In a room near Triceratops, not far from the elephant skulland the wave machine we come upon a glass casewith shelves of women’s shoes. My daughter and I peer in

Poetry

Let's Intuit Something

By

Jess Williard

Make it specific.Make it Oregon, Wisconsin. The time doesn’t matter.

Poetry

We Were Wrong, But Were Given Five Ruins to Consider for Winter

By

Christine Holm

I.It is 76 degrees with no chance of snow for decades.Some people don’t know what its like to live October through Marchwithout blue sky.

Poetry

We trudge through last year’s corn stubble in a wayward, straggling line,drunken with the hour and the cold. It’s April, 4 AM, the air metallic in our noses.We stoop low, clamber awkwardly into plywood boxes slouching in slush,

Poetry

A Few Miles Outside Warroad, Several Weeks Before the Fall

By

Christine Holm

Mothers make excuses, hardly doe-eyed but entirely well-meaning.Their daughters aren’t wayward. Simply, they misplace their sensesof direction or heighten their prospects of efficiency.

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Poetry