One Poem Only

Pollen Count

Danielle Marie Cahill

This poem first appeared in The Quarter(ly).

My computer tells me the weather There is a high pollen count today As if that matters deeply to someone Imprisoned in a…

Swans

Sara Teasdale 1884 – 1933

Night is over the park, and a few brave stars Look on the lights that link it with chains of gold, The lake bears up their reflection in broken bars That seem to…

Midlife Calculus

Britt Kaufmann

Edited by Dava Sobel

Would that I could measure the volume of a glass half-full

but the h of my being is an unknowable variable. Nor can I work backwards the equation f…

Here’s your recap of this week’s poems plus one new poem to carry us into the week ahead.

Jun 9 - Last Fog at Sunrise by Travers Charron: @the_inkwellian on Threads, Scattering Poem Seeds on Substack.…

the body idea

Bree North

I know i am not my body But if i were I would remember just long enough For memory to mean imprints I would be curious as corneas Whiten with fear like follicles Wired up f…

I look for the Holy Fuck in everything I see.

Jo Guzman

—after Courtney Love

I look for the Holy Fuck in everything I see. I wanna whisper Wow, Wow, Wow and have no idea I am even whispering it like a…

History in Art

Maggie Devers

My husband tells me I have a twentieth century ass And that’s a type of poem. Rubens put touches of red on his angels' rears, Literally rogue on cheeks And I feel that’s…

"TELL ME, WHAT IS IT YOU PLAN TO DO WITH YOUR ONE WILD AND PRECIOUS LIFE?"

-Mary Oliver

I plan on washing my sheets, cooking pasta, and cleaning broken glass off the kitchen floor quickly lest it cut…

A Jelly-Fish

Marianne Moore 1887 – 1972

Visible, invisible, A fluctuating charm, An amber-colored amethyst Inhabits it; your arm Approaches, and It opens and It closes; You have meant To catch it, A…

Last Fog at Sunrise

Travers Charron

If life stretched on forever, would we still kneel in the wild mint just to listen to the wind? It’s the fire burning low that draws us near. The song, fading tha…

Here’s your recap of this week’s poems plus one new poem to carry us into the week ahead.

Jun 2 - cream soda by Stephanie Valente, Portals on Substack, @stephanie.maria.valente on Instagram; her book,…

Goodnight, Yesterday

Nichole Johnson

I thought My heart might die loudly– Thunder cracking, Lightening Grinding stone to sand. But– It is quiet. It withers In my ribcage, Like a heavy fog– The las…

I open a book. One brittle flower falls, Shudders into dust. No flicker of flame Could be as beautiful and as burning and as brief As the memories that perfumed powder evokes. - Joanne Witzkowski

Mor…

Because that is all it is.

Maggie Devers

I want to know your process So I can make it with you The way you sketch until your nails are packed with graphite And your warm hands smell of wood shaving…

Honey

Debbie Radford

Honey pools in the dip of my waist. It flows like warm sunlight down my thighs. Every curve a golden river, every step a supple pour. Like a honeycomb, my body is textured and…

Lines Written At Thorp Green

Anne Brontë 1820 – 1849

That summer sun, whose genial glow Now cheers my drooping spirit so Must cold and distant be, And only light our northern clime …

cream soda

Stephanie Valente

Glamor is a spell. I want to feel glamorous. Imagine this: being born from Aphfodite’s ocean pearls. Foamy, iridescent, shimmery, and moody all over. I bet it’s gorgeous.…

Here’s your recap of this week’s poems plus one new poem to carry us into the week ahead.

May 26 - St. Pancras Station, August 1915 by Vera Brittain

May 27 - The Coliseum by Edgar Allan Poe

May 28 - Th…

The Wish, By a Young Lady

Laetitia Pilkington 1709 – 1750

I ask not wit, nor beauty do I crave, Nor wealth, nor pompous titles wish to have; But since, 'tis doomed through all degrees of life, Whethe…

Long, Too Long America

Walt Whitman 1819 – 1892

Long, too long America, Traveling roads all even and peaceful you learn'd from joys and prosperity only, But now, ah now, to learn from crises of ang…