Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature

Leslie Anne Mcilroy: Be Quiet

The secret police
wore shirts that said “secret police,”
which makes one wonder.

March 1, 2021 · 1 Comment

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

Leslie Anne Mcilroy: Zoosk | The Pandemic

We stay put, apart,
constant in longing. And that is all
fine, my friends, except the dying
part. Death all around love’s
little sprouting head.

March 27, 2020 · Leave a comment

Leslie Anne Mcilroy: On the Rocks

I love my son so much I no longer call him my daughter. He presses his bound breasts to me when I hug him hello and goodbye. He wants them … Continue reading

June 25, 2018 · Leave a comment

Leslie Anne Mcilroy: Irreparable

This is how the heart breaks. Never fast. Always rust. Tears and a metal-like sorrow, eyes drawn back to before, more like a heavy, yawning yoke. . This is how … Continue reading

June 25, 2015 · 8 Comments

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