» Poetry - Page 4

In Like a Lion

In Like a Lion by Christopher Stein   there is nothing more embarrassing than seeing yourself in a mirror and not knowing the eyes that blink back black and empty because I have shredded my insides greedily willingly I love … Read More

[—coyote * songbird * roadkill—]

[—coyote * songbird * roadkill—]   You see, amigo, you are…   His voice trailed off like a 4×4 in the tallgrass. The man with khakis the color of sagebrush, whose shoulder-patch blazed the warning of the hornet, whose gun … Read More


Selene by Fiona Kennedy Winner of The Anthem’s 2018 Valentine’s Day Contest   Though I should live to see a thousand years, I would not dare to chase the night with day But every moon would mark my vigil here– … Read More

Past Prime at a Ball

Past Prime at a Ball by Christopher Stein   I spin like death atwirl at the ball whose punch punches you in the guts, held fast by whalebone corsets and the heady silk of buttoned waistcoats.   I spin like … Read More

Rivers (For Anna)

Rivers (For Anna) by Fiona Kennedy   I left you in the river pines Along the dusty track A whisper in the underbrush That caught me whirling back   I felt a shiver in my ear The ghosts of lives … Read More


Untitled by Sarah Bothner   there is no such thing as (everything is dazzling serendipity and hopskippity life is a whirl of a wind and a s         i                 … Read More

The Merits of Weeping

The Merits of Weeping by April Artrip   If I had to describe him I would say he is, Was, intelligent, a good person, Words that sound like they Belong in an obituary, Impersonal, nondescript. Is there a requirement for … Read More

Sounds Like Poetry

Sounds Like Poetry by Leonor Morrow   It’s a wonderful feeling not pressing the skip button when listening to my Spotify playlist.   Too often, I have found myself skimming over once-loved songs and still-memorised lyrics. Too often, I have … Read More

from The Ego Anthology

from The Ego Anthology by David Gewanter       I. jumble Ego,   like a sagging barn, let’s say, a barn sagging with old toys gathered from city streets— like a hidden doorhandle, a handlebar mustache, your stash of love-letters, the love … Read More

on fire

on fire by Regina Andreoni after “Afghan Girl” by Steve McCurry   watch the flame dance alone drunk, stumbling over wind at its wick’s end.   that girl, she’s built of brittle kindle, trampled twigs, hot air, and a spark. … Read More

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