Daniel Moore’s “Infant Tusks” breaks hearts, while the poem plays with its central image ingeniously. Levity, cruelty, danger, and pride—all here. All a piece of parenting. Infant Tusks If only I had, they would have been, what, different? Less…
Alyx Jordan captures something of the “ruthless” flesh here. They’ve buried our bodies in the dirt, the pine needles—asking to play a game of shovels and live-wire. “Something—Eye Spy” is not a poem to be missed. Something — Eye…
Michael Trocchia’s poem plays with wonderful absurdity, with “gross splendor” from every angle—crafting an esthetic relaxation where the profound dances gracefully in your peripheral vision. “One Man’s Success and Failure” is a triumph of blah. ON ONE MAN’S SUCCESS…
Our Industry Prize judges were equally admirable of Brian Tierney’s poetry as they were of Gabriel Kruis’—they both tied for second place. Today we publish Tierney’s poem, “Polyphagia,” a wonderful and vulnerable meditation on the struggle of an eating disorder.…
We’re always on the lookout for a great poem that uses rhyme and meter in traditional ways—Vedran Husic’s “Cantata” excels with elegant, simple rhymes. As its title suggests, the heart of the work is music, a thing for your mouth,…
We are so honored to share with you all the winning poem of our Industry Prize. Kristin Chang’s “Dress code for an immigration interview” received the highest scores from judges Don Share, Nicole Sealey, and Matthew Zapruder—a well deserved recognition…
Traumatic moments come in many shapes, and here, Jacqueline Schaalje works to reveal one of the most common: the car accident. Ambivalent and child-like, the speaker of “After an Accident” doesn’t want to forget—they want to capture the “glitter” of…
Arn’s “The Salesman” shows all the qualities of a good contemporary sonnet, the perennial form: the subtle bending rhymes inside and ending the lines, the compact story, the lines that break rhythm and syntax with purpose, and the well-timed, twisting…
Amy LeBlanc’s poem “Wintering” is a master of the short line—trembling and damaged bodies laid across four syllables. We’re enthralled by the pressed imagery, the slant rhymes, the wish for peace. Wintering he torched the skin that i’m still in.…
By the second pair of lines, the gentle hiding of men in flowers, we were hooked to this poem. Babette Cieskowski’s language blooms in delicate song: the shucked pearls, the blood root, the windowsill—”Dream With Ex-Lover In Red” is a…
