Salon Zine: All Poetry

By Brie Huling I’m hiding inside my vestibule of hearts today— among the lanceflower and sour purslane. I am a little millipede with antennas like

BY PRABHAKAR VASAN It is, again, unsafe. At least, it is unclear. animals, their dark forms when they crouch at the margins of the freeway

BY DIANE SCHENKER Now is the winter of our inevitable results, unavoidably determined by prior conditions. Essential? Absolutely. Logically. Required. Convention, on the other hand,

BY DIANE SCHENKER Consider housekeeping, consider the rain. Consider the fly dancing on the window. It herky-jerks its relentless heartbreak of trying to get out.

BY LUISA A. IGLORIA Everything returns to a source: gladness to the tree, fruit to the cradle, flesh from the bone. Water lashes the roofs

BY CHERYL BURKE Ever since the latest spot opened nearby, the limos leaked models onto the sidewalk, the guys in ties lined up the block,

BY STEPHANIE SHERMAN There were nights when the moon rolled down my nose, paused at my lip and slipped down Arévalo street. The children’s feet

BY CHING-IN CHEN Don’t know when it began, the vision. One by one, I let go. My husband calls me a crazy wife, bad mother,

BY CAROLINE BERGER Still a flare of anger an ache of loss a phantom limb feeling whenever she reads he the default pronoun striped of

BY KATE BERNADETTE BENEDICT Where the bilge bled, what the hold held, how the stabilizers spread their cunning wings— as Ship’s First Matrix I was

BY MICHELLE LEE Here and there I’ve left slipknots of selves for dead, oaken and unmoving, yet somehow they’ve unravelled, looping out from beneath so

BY KC TROMMER Good morning. Operator. A few hundred calls an hour. Inferno. Red lights: incoming white lights: connected damn thing ablaze at all hours.

BY S.G. FRAZIER A row of glistening kids stood under the pool lamp, gazing through the fence links as one of the witnesses, beer coolie