Time shifts like water
I find myself driving our mazy streets,
the wheel I am too tired to grip.
Oh, come lay your hands upon him,
Red and lovely, scared
Beneath the red smock she wore like a gown
This was a journey polar-ward.
Pearls fell from the sky that day, painted the windows
I have reached down my throat
Alexis Rhone Fancher
Pass an egg above his body while he’s sleeping.
Some say pomegranate but I say
now thurifer of Autumn air.
Cortland branches to drop
We publish poetry that has some element of the unexpected–whether it’s the language, the imagery, or the emotion—yet feels honest. Do you have a poem that acknowledges the intensity of motherhood? Read more about submitting your work here.