Archive for the 'bookmaggot' Category

a half-built garden, by ruthanna emrys

corporate strength has always come from transmuting the threat of force into softer trade.

what my bones know, by stephanie woo

I wanted to be the kind of woman people didn’t leave.

husbandry, by matthew dickman

my only job now, in all the world, is to not destroy my kids, and in turn, teach them not to destroy others

whale fall, by david baker

I wish I had spoken when it mattered

in the eye of the wild, by nastassja martin

Three years ago Daria described the fall of the Soviet Union to me. She said, Nastya, one day the light went out and the spirits came back. And we returned to the forest.

nona the ninth, by tamsyn muir

She had the terrible sinking feeling that whatever was going wrong right now, it was her fault somehow: that she hadn’t been smart enough or good enough.

america is not the heart, by elaine castillo

Baggage means no matter how far you go, no matter how many times you immigrate, there are countries in you you’ll never leave.

nature poem, by tommy pico

Repeating patterns, the mistakes of yr parents, running but not getting very far. Not as far as you wanted but maybe farther than you think.

a calm & normal heart, by chelsea t. hicks

treaties are for settlers, too.

virology, by joseph osmundson

The nuclear family is a construct that both renders affairs of the family unit private and makes labor forces more “flexible.” Economists say frictionless.

vera kelly: lost and found, by rosalie knecht

I didn’t know how a child was supposed to grieve, and no one told me.

how to read now, by elaine castillo

I’m more interested in solidarity, even if I don’t quite yet know myself what I mean by it, just the feeling I get from it—the startling, quenching relief of it; the force of its surprise, like being loved.

uncertain glory, by joan sales

who’d have thought that explosion of joy would end five years later in the most absurd butchery . . .

brother in ice, by alicia kopf

At my high school there was a sign that said: “The world belongs to those who read.” That’s a lie, I thought, a lie, a lie, a lie.

the years, by annie ernaux

she copies down sentences that tell one how to live, which have the undeniable weight of truth because they come from books

customs, by solmaz sharif

They say willingness is what one needs to succeed. They say one needs to succeed.

homage to catalonia, by george orwell

Human beings were trying to behave as human beings and not as cogs in the capitalist machine.

bless the daughter raised by a voice in her head, by warsan shire

The poem can start with him walking backwards into a room. He takes off his jacket and sits down for the rest of his life, that’s how we bring Dad back.

thresh & hold, by marlanda dekine

I care for Henrietta Lacks and all the names whispered in my ear by the live oak trees. I don’t care about the father of modern gynecology, honored on South Carolina’s golf course capitol.

time is a mother, by ocean vuong

Because this mess I made I made with love. Because they came into my life, these ghosts, like something poured. Because crying, believe it or not, did wonders.