by Claire Scott
Suspended between lover and caregiver and not doing either / especially well.
by Allison Brice
I took my breakup quietly, like a pitiful February rain with no lightning.
by Abi Stephenson
She didn’t have to love me. Biology didn’t force her hand the way it does for mothers.
by David Watts
I heard for the second time / the news of his heart transplant, / details like a post card from a foreign country
by Myna Chang
In the grit of a 1975 farm town, 9-year-old girls weigh about 60 pounds, even wicked little girls with bad women for mommas.
by Oak Morse
We were all one beautiful blend / of mama’s love. My brother, / the color of ecru, the other one / sepia, and me, ebony.
by Stephanie Vanderslice
I can tell you this now. Both times I was pregnant, I worried. I doubted my ability to raise a girl.
by Dino Parenti
One unremarkable March day, a man began puncturing random holes in his withered pasture with a post-hole digger.
by Benjamin Aleshire
I travel around the world and strangers pay me to write poems for them on a typewriter in the street—that’s how I’ve made my living for the last eight years.
by Tori Malcangio
In the dark, from my twin bed, I listen to Romy and her latest visitor in the sheets.