/abby johnson

Look too long and I become / firefly, fox, rabbit, / deer, knotted hunk / of fur

/megan snyder-camp

when she fell she’d laugh / a thin looping sound / one / day she made me / be the child

/jay brecker

like a tongue / rueful / tastes sweetness / yet / cannot secrete it

/mary buchinger

What did you give up for that iridescent wing? / the larger sky the bowl of blue

/megan waring

my pickled selves spooning each other / elbows in knees in bellies fumbling

/abigail goodhart

imagine there were only two, / an Adam and Eve in their fig leaves, banished from Eden, / hopping bravely onto the stolen earth, Starlings

/shannan mann

Water is my mother today. Creamy foam, / frothing falls, flash of eels, distant oxbow.

/jaime jacques

On the bus, a baby girl holds my eyes / over the shoulder of her mother. / You look at me in a way that pleads / It’s a sign.

/sarah beddow

I want to return. It’s hard to remember now how afraid we all were, how little we understood about what would happen next, how the world was emptied of human noise.

/melanie smith

My mother is dying. I sit outside with a pear, and remember Auden’s poem about Icarus falling from the sky.