Poem of the Week

July By Margarita Serafimova One morning when I was an object of desire by the gilded sea, the wind was making exquisite waves, and a man took a picture so as not to forget. The sunset was marching. It was slowly…

Some of the Things that Happen Around Us By Holly Day The violinist folds himself into his case, tucks his wings in carefully, folds his arms across his chest, sleeps. Beside his case is a smaller case, with a handle, and in it his violin…

The Particular Bearing of Cows’ Tails (Pour Pierre et Nic) by Chris Connolly The rain (I am sorry to bring it up) falls like shivers down spines kamikaze attackers against rattling glass. It will be the opening topic of conversation…

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To Syrian Children You all are culpable— for wending your way to schools for going to hospitals, for playing in open spaces and for keeping at your dreams within a country in rags. Yes, you never knew that you would be going down with a…

Queer Reptile This is my season of alertness. We’re sorry, your call cannot be validated as dialled. I wouldn’t be caught dead without my Ray-Bans. Please check the number and dial again. My lime claws slip out from my pink pineapple…

The Imaginary Friend pinches inside the centre of my chest like an axial graph folded and ripped, an extradimensional shift to shit, cinched with the rented smile of a guest he suspects that his greatest achievement is unravelling the…

Flight Flick the determined grey beetle off the page and its elliptical half fortress trundles back again. Fog billows over the spangled banner in July like smoke, like the Atlantic is of a mind that’s hot and made up. There’s a seagull…

Dead Field in Memphis Waving the evil thing before our eyes This here’s devils work, he cries Ma threwn it into the pyre We was outside the skullteachers hutch. The Bagavad Gita, the Tao te ching The Talmud, the analects of Confucious. Ma …

Human The fact that he's rolling down the old fear through scraped, incremental homesickness makes his intelligence a gunfire journey. The skies cocoon phantoms. Fifty jeers for the ninth wife, who asks walls about the inferno in a metro.…