Poetry | Burnt Breakfast

‘Ceramic Giraffe’ by Ryan Keating

I keep a ceramic giraffe standing guard in front of the wooden wine rack on top of the bookshelf full of other bottles in the corner of...

‘The Class of 2007’ by Lauren Gorski

Amped and emo, we grew our limbs from wine coolers dripping wet after teen idols and hip-hugging capris. During the election, we voted...

‘Surprising Birds’ by Dave Clark

I walked past a dead pigeon today. It was on its back, Both legs stuck up And its toes spread out. As though it died surprising someone....

‘Bias Binding’ by Karen Mooney

I helped her pin on the pattern, marking it out with chalk before making the cuts, binding the edges then stitching it all together on a...

‘Flea Bitten Unicorn’ by Dominic Loise

There was a cheap rate UHF airtime commercial during my youth repeated in between after school cartoons that heralded the return of a...

A Grammar Workshop | By William Doreski

The New York School of Poets has become a grammar workshop meeting in the diner’s back room. Ashbery parses favorite intransitive verbs,...

My Primary Feeling, Annotated, During This Dark Age | By Jill Witty

I 1 miss 2 holding 3 your 4 hand 5. 1 Not merely the self, the first-person subject pronoun, but also the collective I, the individual...

Solemnity | By Nancy Dobson

This isn’t Notre Dame, the woman behind me hisses at her husband. No, I think defiantly, it’s better. But to honor the stillness in this...

Liaison | By Belinda Rimmer

We had agreed to meet by a river beside three boulders. I was to bring a picnic, and he a blanket. I had gone along the road signposted,...

A Catalogue of Rare and Curious Items Found on the Remote Island of Congoja | By Philippa Bowe

1. One large spyglass. Brass and high-quality leather. Staining and identically formed indentations along the barrel suggest long use at...

The Rabbit | By Sadie Maskery

The Christmas that she left, Dad took me to the market. I need to see a man, he said, look after yourself. There was slush numbing my...

An Elk: I Knew You Were | By Molly A. Green

I knew you were— an elk, lifting your chin above me, trapping my breath in a labyrinth of shadows, your antlers, an ego sprouting from...

Cold Caller | By Simon Alderwick

he phoned me, the scammer, and said he would never forget his mother's words— as she gives him everything he might ever own: you'll grow...

Ambiguity | By A.R. Salandy

I travel to the east of the coldest west Each summer, (To where my father grew to know injustice) Where Auntie says Mama isn't black so...

Summers in Greece | By Tonia Markou

Our grandparents’ house smells of musty old rugs and comforters, of goat cheese and Trahaná. The entire village groans under the heat and...