Vox Populi

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

Jeffrey Harrison: Disconcerting

The word became the mantra of
her last few years, which were, in fact,
often disconcerting: her descent
into dementia, her cancer diagnosis,
her fall, her fractured hip.

April 5, 2022 · 3 Comments

Patricia Jabbeh Wesley: This Worn-Out Hospital Gown

like all the other women survivors,
me, walking free from the monster.

March 9, 2022 · 4 Comments

T. R. Hummer: My Wife in Chemo

The house of healing is crystalline, clean
as the diagram of a carbon molecule drawn
With a laser beam on one facet of a diamond.

February 22, 2022 · 8 Comments

Sydney Lea: Heterodox

A knows of B
That after grim chemo his hair came back
The doctors reckoned they’d licked his disease

January 13, 2022 · 2 Comments

Thomas A. Thomas: In a Time

It is the month of our first walk along the salt
shore together, and of my beloved’s first illness,
harbinger of worse to come, month of our lost
mortgage, of bankruptcy, August of learning

August 24, 2021 · 4 Comments

Leslie Anne Mcilroy: Call Back

The pink half-gown is tied wrong.
I can’t figure out the strings.
My nipples are hard in the
fluorescent waiting room.

February 2, 2021 · 5 Comments

Tayve Neese: Inside her muscle, a blossom,

This is what the tumor had done,
reduced the whole world to nothing
but metaphor

October 14, 2020 · 5 Comments

Ellery Akers: Rachel Carson

I think of the way she knew
that eels slid from brook to brook
and then to the sea.

August 26, 2020 · 3 Comments

Louie Skipper: The Beginning

I keep trying to persuade my father
into a better opinion of me now that he is dead.

January 16, 2020 · 2 Comments

Peter Schireson: Hinge

We hold her X-ray
up to the light—

September 19, 2019 · Leave a comment

Adrie Kusserow: A Brief Respite after Chemo

A BRIEF RESPITE FROM THE USUAL PERCEPTUAL DIVIDES: AFTER CHEMO I SKI THROUGH THE VERMONT WOODS IN ANOTHER CLIMATE CHANGE STORM

April 14, 2019 · 17 Comments

Sharon Fagan McDermott: The Book of Lesser Angers

presses each broken thing like an autumn leaf between pages where I watch the pace of disintegration, lacy residue.   Rain writes within it a sloppy welter—the neighbor shaking her … Continue reading

March 8, 2019 · 1 Comment

Molly Fisk: Cancer, again

this time a slow- growing rarity tracing delicate tendrils through kidney and liver, the lung’s sturdy wall, artery somewhere I can’t remember, though twice I’ve been told. How the mind … Continue reading

July 18, 2018 · 1 Comment

John Samuel Tieman: Haibun

he pencils me in the doctor hints of cancer but we’ll talk next week What should I do as the end of summer approaches? Earlier today, when I went to … Continue reading

September 15, 2015 · Leave a comment

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