Heather Treseler’s new chapbook Parturition, named after the technical term for childbirth, is punctuated with medical vocabulary. Anhedonia, the inability to feel pleasure. Caul, a baby born with a piece of amniotic sac on its head. Nullipara, a woman who has never given birth.
“What’s the start of summer for you, the signal that it’s here?” Nina MacLaughlin asks in her book-length essay Summer Solstice, published by Black Sparrow Press. And with that invitation the reader’s imagination is kindled, fueled by the flush of inquiries that follow: “Is it the last day of school? The lilacs or the day lilies? First sleep with the windows open?”
The end of Frank’s world doesn’t go out with a bang or a whimper, but rather with the siren of the emergency broadcasting system and a smoky, pink smudge on the western horizon.
Patricia Colleen Murphy’s first collection, Hemming Flames, is an intricate and intimate portrait of family, struggle, grief, guilt, and moving through it all. It’s a book about feeling strange—not part of the family you were born into, and not really part of yourself—with the body you were born into. It’s a book about trying to find shreds of certainty, and about trying, period.
“Eden” by Tariq Thomas won the Youth Poetry, Prose and Pizza Slam hosted by the Brattleboro Literary Festival. Green Mountains Review is proud to publish Tariq’s poem. Congrats, Tariq!
My love, we floated for hours / In kayaks, side by side, scarcely dipping our paddles. / No motors allowed here, no soul in any / Of the southerly shore’s three other cabins.
The simple ways are the best. Roadkill / soup. Jumping out of airplanes / without a chute. Getting up with the sun
One day the rooster said to the little red wagon, “Little red wagon, I’ve sung my song. Won’t you give a me a ride around the farm?” “No,” the little red wagon said.
The worthy and wealthy men of color / stood on Golconda, gangplank, Savannah, / the blind Pharoah, thrown overboard, sorrow.
Like a violin wishing it were a piano. Like a cirrus cloud afraid of heights. Like a Nobel scientist unsure of the science. Like a barn with hay-fever. Like a lake afraid of being too...