Jeffrey Morgan
Another Man They Think I Am at Heart

Jeffrey Morgan - Another Man They Think I Am at Heart

Poetry
Jeffrey Morgan is the author of Crying Shame. His poems have appeared in Bellevue Literary Review, Pleiades, Rattle, Third Coast,… Read more »
Elizabeth Langemak
Green Hole

Elizabeth Langemak - Green Hole

Poetry
Elizabeth Langemak lives in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Read more »
Mark Lee Webb
It is Raining and the Planks on Lewes Pier Bleed

Mark Lee Webb - It is Raining and the Planks on Lewes Pier Bleed

Poetry
Mark Lee Webb is a native of Kentucky, but as a teenager lived in California. He knows where a skeg… Read more »
Moriah Cohen
On Learning the Year Used to be 410 Days Long

Moriah Cohen - On Learning the Year Used to be 410 Days Long

Poetry
Moriah Cohen’s poetry has been published or is forthcoming in Hayden’s Ferry Review, Hoot: A Mini Literary Magazine on a… Read more »
Sally Rosen Kindred
Proposing to Dickens

Sally Rosen Kindred - Proposing to Dickens

Poetry
Sally Rosen Kindred is the author of two poetry books from Mayapple Press, No Eden (2011) and Book of Asters… Read more »
Amy Wright
Scientists Film Inside A Flying Insect

Amy Wright - Scientists Film Inside A Flying Insect

Poetry
Amy Wright is the Nonfiction Editor of Zone 3 Press and Zone 3 journal and the author of four poetry… Read more »
John A. Nieves
The Moment of the Fall

John A. Nieves - The Moment of the Fall

Poetry
John A. Nieves has poems forthcoming or recently published in journals such as: Southern Review, Poetry Northwest, and Fugue. He… Read more »

On Learning the Year Used to be 410 Days Long

Moriah Cohen

When the first warm day broke spring open, you waited
for sounds you could believe in to wander
through the screen, waited for a clean-shaven

magician to pull your father from a hat
like the rabbit he was. When that was over,
all you were left with were oyster shells

and a balloon-sword that couldn’t cut
the sun in two. Your whole life it continues,
this process of being opened just to see

what the rings inside you tell about time.
Yesterday, your son turned two, and I told you
it’s not that the world is any less

distant than it used to be, but that it’s found
something to savor. Now, this close – the scratchy
patch of your chest pressed to my back – I can see you

will never leave her. I wonder if all parents
realize they are small gods plucking our dark
bodies from a curve and crashing them
Read more »