The worst thing we can think of, we’ve done
PioneerBy Elena T. Tomorowitz
Only two geese at midnight, only one within my range.
WishBy Marie-Claire Bancquart, translated from the French by Claire Eder
Once the bone has been ground up, who, through muslin, would recognize her hand from a dog’s paw?
Twenty FloraBy Andrew Seguin
Live an orchard life then pulp it for another.
Elegy ElegyBy Brian Henry
Whether we will their return or not / the dead keep coming back to us
CornerstoneBy Alejandra Pizarnik, translated from the Spanish by Yvette Siegert
I thought I had died and that death meant repeating a name forever.
CagesBy Christopher Kondrich
We see the night / for what it really is, a house / for our bodies
Honey Badger DuetBy Sally Wen Mao
Starve us, // stave off hyenas with our youth— / our muscle as protein, lion’s bait.
Blessed Are The Weak
By Alexis Pope
(For They Are No Good)
Under this desk I have hidden / for two months. I have tried / at shadowy. Have failed / at being wonderful.
Four WallsBy Zeeshan Sahil, translated from the Urdu by Faisal Siddiqui, Christopher Kennedy, and Mi Ditmar
…you can sleep without stretching your legs; / you can live never lifting your head.
FuturityBy David Dodd Lee
Everyone’s face reminds me of a buried city, cars up on blocks leaning through // the slanted light (like jail cells)…
The Castle Avenue With TreesBy Aleš Debeljak, translated from the Slovenian by Brian Henry
And I know: a hitch-hiker who never enters!
Self-Portrait as an IncubusBy Tory Adkisson
…their sleeping, their dormancy, / how it stirred in me a hunger / black as a pocked tooth.
Watercolor KitBy Alice Bolin
She is knee-sick and fawning on her felt-tipped prize / for exceeding her bones in the sprinting test.
Apologia NumericaBy John Fenlon Hogan
Oftentimes the bourbon distilleries in this land I’ve pitched / my tent in under-distribute for what I have in mind.
BowBy Josh Kalscheur
When my arms first grew firm I began to trust / myself to love someone outside my family.
Inventing the Etymology of My Newest CountryBy Natalie Eilbert
I carried a machine on my back / from a tundra to a new northwest.
[it feels like tattling]By Benjamin Gantcher
we talk about getting another widow / for her to putter with
EusthenopteronBy James Grinwis
A huge is an instinct, / a severe is a creature / of proportion.
The AfrikanderBy Megan Fernandes
in the outskirts of Lisbon, the Afrikander, / builds a bone temple for all the lads
Paper Flowers & Cyber PeacocksBy Maung Day, translated from the Burmese by the poet
Let us legally do what we must do in the dark
Ick WormsBy Elizabeth Gramm
Wet pets lounge out in the trees, all the abandoned bits / children leave, beyond what the self wants (to be bigger, / less attached).
at the side (côtés) of poetryBy Gozo Yoshimasu, translated from the Japanese by Jeffrey Angles
I have written this poem on the theme “To the post-3.11 world, as I see it,” but this is just the prelude.
The Destruction of Tenochtitlan; or, What I Did on My Summer VacationBy Christopher Kempf
I would make, / it occurs to me one / sun-smeared evening after too much vodka, not / a bad Aztec.
Risk Management Memo: Continuing EducationBy Mary Biddinger
Tonight’s theme is: you are a baby nihilist.
Two PoemsBy Arseny Tarkovsky, translated from the Russian by Philip Metres and Dimitri Psurtsev
Old one, there’s still time to get your face / Broken in two by a lead-tipped whip.
Portrait of a TyrantBy Robert Ostrom
I’ve seen him before, crawling / under church pews, tying // parishioners’ shoes together.
His InductionBy Danniel Schoonebeek
I’ll death so well they’ll say dying is ripping me off
The Second Tale: XV, from Tales of a Severed HeadBy Rachida Madani, translated from the French by Marilyn Hacker
A tale crashing in the glass garden
ScarecrowBy Lillien Waller
Everything that can be done to a man / was done to him.
JunkBy Michael Marberry
We were always restless in the boondocks.
We Are So IllegalBy Sean Thomas Dougherty
My enemies are too young to take me seriously.
Summer by the RavineBy Artis Ostups, translated from the Latvian by Ieva Lešinska and Tom Pow
I wish there were simpler words for this—to reach a point zero or the limit, to write: “It was so hard without you.”
The Fate of the SaintsBy Roy Bentley
Trying to make sense of sacrifice is like watching / gravediggers bury something in the shade of trees.
EnvoiBy Sandra Lim
Lazarus woke to the miracle of no longer fearing failure.
Flying FishBy Benjamin Goodney
Underneath the carnival, on a city pier skirted / In paper dragons, a slow pack, ever indistinct, scavenges a / Great cadaver
TwistedBy Peter Jay Shippy
can you make a dog, the boy asked, let me tell you / about Tarkovsky and Andrei Rublev, the clown said
Caiçara SongBy Flávio de Araújo, translated from the Portuguese by Rachel Morgenstern-Clarren
My fishhook snagged two catfish / three squid on the zangareio
The Immigrant Searches the Map for Countries Larger Than His PalmBy Monika Zobel
I was born in the first century of guilt.
Vacationing in the Fur Trade DistrictBy Sarah Messer
I thought of zooaphilia: woman who married / a bear, a frog, a swan, who fed a cobra milk / and then fell in love.
Drinking BaghdadBy Michael Loruss
In Al-Najaf, I watched a man’s wound / flitter off his skin, knowing he’d died / two days prior
Vulture GastronomyBy Fred D'Aguiar
How long will it take before our dreams / Fill again with varieties of fallen bodies?
EnoughBy Katie Peterson
the weather has since become so kindly, / so temperate, I forget what blessings / they don’t think they have.
Lines Toward a Night-BestiaryBy Kirsten Kaschock
The Secondary Disciplinarian: a monster dropped / from a husband’s dream
Angela, From WisconsinBy Jill McDonough
This is what a veteran looks like / now, I keep telling myself
Taxi, Singapore, OhioBy Lo Kwa Mei-en
The fishmonger of me // walks home with a little fish a little empty, / but the next life will be landlocked
Metaphor for SomethingBy Hilary Vaughn Dobel
We didn’t have any bears and so drew straws / to dress up in the bear-suit and stand, vinyl-fanged // jaws agape in the hotel lobby.
CalendricsBy Tess Taylor
But I am an amateur / among these bird-cries & must train—
VoiceBy Melih Cevdet Anday, translated from the Turkish by Sidney Wade and Efe Murad
It was the sound of an historical wrist, of resistance
Watching the Dive Team Practice after Covering a Friend’s ClassBy Austin Segrest
I wanted to know them, woman and man / the spice of chlorine and adrenaline / to be with them at the edge.