by Lunchbox Editor | Apr 19, 2023 | Poetry
You’re always still until your not I pretend that you want me when the only thing you really want is to be alone In a beautiful arrangement of stretching limbs that tangle above and below Carrying your weight When I am asleep and in the current of the night...
by Lunchbox Editor | Apr 19, 2023 | Poetry
The night before my dog died I had a dream about a moth-woman. She was beautiful, inhuman, familiar. Her skin was golden, her hair flowed down In soft yellow waves. She smiled kindly to me With a love only capable in animals: Unconditional, unjudging. She knew...
by Lunchbox Editor | Apr 19, 2023 | Poetry
Five miles north of the Sunday Farmers’ Market, there is a rock I used to sit on when the world spun fast, overlooking the lake, hidden by tall trees, fifty feet off the trail. You’ll know you’re close when you see the red oak I carved our names into almost...
by Lunchbox Editor | Apr 19, 2023 | Poetry
Key Chain Brain Drain Locked out Closed out, closed off, clothes off Under covers Fighting brothers I’m in my head Sick not dead, quick it’s unsaid Next morning Always mourning It’s silence No guidance, I hear the...
by Lunchbox Editor | Apr 19, 2023 | Poetry
How It’s Made To be conscious is not to be for the benefit of one, but for the benefit of another: a reflection of the way in which I grace this Earth, Our Earth–bequest not for what I am, but for what will be–and you said it best–here I will wash my hands and the...
