Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature: over 400,000 monthly users

Alison Luterman: Jasmine

now we’ve grown into our own
miniature galaxy,
a wall of starry scent

June 29, 2022 · 5 Comments

Alison Luterman: Witch Walk

I don’t know what I’d expected–a portal, perhaps,
to magic me elsewhere, but she spoke only of a slight shift
in perception, that which might allow
a tiny purplish wildflower to be a doorway.

May 4, 2022 · 1 Comment

Alison Luterman: At the Jeweler’s Tent

I hold a string of amethysts up to my collarbone.
There are wrinkles on my neck now,
rings of crinkled flesh like tree-markings,
one for each lived year

April 13, 2022 · 6 Comments

Alison Luterman: A Woman Speaks of Marriages

I’ve known marriages like Niagaras, that splashed and thundered,
whose couples careened down them bravely, wearing only barrels.

March 23, 2022 · 5 Comments

Alison Luterman: She for whom I am named

left Russia at fifteen to follow her betrothed.
Good-bye, skinny chickens and fly-bitten cows,
synagogue leaning on one side, as if to dodge blows
from a Cossack’s boot

February 23, 2022 · 4 Comments

Enter your email address to follow Vox Populi and receive new posts by email.

Join 10,681 other followers

Blog Stats

  • 4,493,511 hits

Archives