The children press their noses/to our bumpy, flawless etrog./They hold it tightly, inhale its zesty scent,
I hit “Buy It Now” over and over on Amazon. Big blue tubs of lightly salted cashews hit the front porch softly, pouched in plastic.
Congratulations to GMR contributor Anne Graue whose new poetry Full and Plum-Colored Velvet was published in late 2020 by Woodsley Press.
When I tell myself this story,/all the action takes place/under an empty sky.
our wet hair smelled of river haunt with clung decay of leaves
Sadie and Max are playing in the backyard when Sadie has a thought. “We should start a restaurant,” she says.
One Illuminated Letter of Being, Donald Platt’s new collection of thirty-two heart-wrenching poems, is oriented around the loss of his mother—itself a disorienting experience, for anyone—that anticipates her death, reconciles itself to it, and resumes living, in a new way.
Outside it’s North Dakota/And November feels like November, but on the moon.