Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer: Like a Friend
I didn’t land. I fell and I fell and I fell.
At first as I plummeted, I feared the landing,
imagining an imminent crash. Then,
I fell through nights and middays. Fell through
kitchen floors and highways.
March 15, 2026 · 44 Comments
Valerie Bacharach: Crows
Some days I don’t know what to do with this rage I carry.
October 23, 2024 · 20 Comments
Robert Wrigley: Self-Pity
Sometimes, in private—another room at least,
another building all the better—you can bask
in the balm and rage of it, you can as a dog does
roll in it like a dead fish on the grass
March 5, 2023 · 18 Comments
