Michael Collier

  MEADOW   Moments that were tender, if I can use that word, now rendered in memory’s worn face, have names attached and, less...
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Katie Herman

Almost unseen, a root runs down / from the moon, a fracture in the spine / of night.

Meg Eden

Without a jacket, without shoes, / he rode you like a giraffe / in a world without streetlamps / or sound. // I see you in the shed, strapped / to the ceiling as if in an asylum / chair, wild and incomprehensible—

Katie Herman

The first time I saw a bone break / it was an arm. The girl kicked and screamed / to escape her body, twisting on the floor. / It was too much to have a body.

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