Sundays were always the green
of aquarium glass, the smell
of waxed duck pinching the house.
The television splintering
the room like the dry season;
outside, dogs’ perpetual barking.
My ...
KLANG, 2003 by Lyn Li Che
LAR Online, Poetry
They did not know—the first
flowers in space, planted by a hand
years removed from another, already
the bones losing mass, density
another word for dependent,
the way oblong seeds in ...
Zinnias by Sarah Fawn Montgomery
LAR Online, Poetry
Hyacinth: killed by a stone discus, by accident or out of anger, thrown by his lover.
And always after one murder or another
a great power wonders,
how shall I commemorate the act?
Already the boy is ...
Hyacinth by Lee Upton
LAR Online, Poetry
If they’re communing with themselves, bewitched
by caverned basement shadows candlelit
and musk of brick, old rags, damp empty sleeves
mother hung to dry, how peevishly should we
scoff? No father clumps to ...
Triplets at a Ouija Board, 1951 by Adam Tavel
LAR Online, Poetry
She is still teaching me all the ways I can bleed.
Black ice near invisible on the asphalt. Shattered
bottles trashed near the freeway. My body
welts quicker than a pear. Her body ...
Still Life With Womb and Nine Imagined Siblings by Natalia Conte
LAR Online, Poetry
The 32-Cent Heart
If the summer never comes, then we will learn
to love the gray, the way it unfurls the windows,
makes a flush of robins crackle in ornamental fig.
At the farm, a lamb has come, ...
2 Poems by Erin Elizabeth Smith
LAR Online, Poetry
..........................In the ghostly movie palace
.............our eyes weep at our eyes
elated across the screen. Biggest
..........................little eyes. We are ...
Monolids by Shelley Wong
LAR Online, Poetry
The pulmonologist doesn’t know
what’s wrong with my father’s lungs. Filled
with clouds – the kind that hurry
toward you as a warning. He doesn’t know why
my father can’t catch his breath, ...
Clouds by January Pearson
LAR Online, Poetry
Neck stretched back and tipped slightly upside
down, two weeks earlier I looked for the Perseids,
their August arrival scattered in summer’s deep
pockets. Now, warm gel glides over my ...
Augusts by Sarah Pape
LAR Online, Poetry
