Carine Topal: The Terrible Years
Our son sits on a yellow bench bloodied
in the square, waving to a soldier. It is to you he says goodbye.
Now we must pack our bag of bread, head to toe in soot,
ready to eat anything.
October 7, 2025 · 17 Comments
Sandy Solomon: Metaphoric
Like leaves to sun, people in the room turned
toward her when she appeared at the door—
plain as metaphor—beaming.
January 23, 2023 · 2 Comments
Mary Jane White: “Dear Friends” by Marina Tsvetaeva:
Dear friends, who’ve passed these nights with us!
Miles, and miles, and miles, and dry bread . . .
April 8, 2022 · 5 Comments
Mary Jane White: “A Late Reply” by Anna Akhmatova
Distract me, my native fields,
From all that has happened to me,
The abyss that swallowed my loved ones
March 18, 2022 · 3 Comments
