by Merlinda Bobis
Who are you
that looks back at us,
lights us
saves us
from the dark,
knows us
each night
more than we’ll ever
know ourselves?
by Merlinda Bobis
Who are you
that looks back at us,
lights us
saves us
from the dark,
knows us
each night
more than we’ll ever
know ourselves?
by Melinda Smith
Breathe
breathe out
(you have permission)
what are you wearing?
Continue reading “Brief dream of the woman poet on the 59th TrumpDay”
by Lizz Murphy
The quiet of an infant
who understands nothing
of war or flight or why
he sleeps under just a jacket
Refugees crowding one side
police crowding the other
His eyes his chest
tomorrow’s tear gas burn