Author Archives: voicemailpoems

by Erika Walsh There was the year I kept forgetting how old I wasAnd what to do with my mouth I climb into the fridge a blue holeThe girl I kiss holds my hair in her fingers She walks behind me I don’t watch her faceShe holds my ribs in her sharp hands like musicContinue reading “Planet”

by Sean Hanrahan They wanted you to believe it was the ‘50sthose ‘80s purveyors of Teen Beat, Tiger Beat, Bop, and other idol mags replete with pinups of cherubic porn stars in popped up collars posed against the ubiquitous woodsy backdrop every mustachioed photographer knew and loved, or in front of perfectly manicured lawns with the perquisite white picket fences and blurryContinue reading “The 80s Were the 50s”

by Shannon Elizabeth Hardwick First thing’s first. I want your body. I imagine a door. You are in the room making jokes about how absurd you look in a plain t-shirt. We haven’t seen each other in over a decade. I want the Danube to part and reveal our bones, delicate curves of mollusks. I want the BlackContinue reading “IF I WROTE THIS IN THE BLACK FOREST, WOULD YOU READ IT?”

by Sierra Laurin Parsons Maybe it’s the caffeine,but when you speakto me, you look into my eyes and I notice. You point out the sky,say there’s a stormbrewing. At first, I think I am the storm—but when I drive home,the lightning strikes,and all I want to dois call you and say,come find me. I fall in love everyday, butnotContinue reading “Pearl St.”

by Sarah ChristianScher I built your brother wings:wax and feather they were,white as cloud they were,and he flew away from me.Until, sun-scorched, he felltaken by the sea. For you, my son, I built a cage:wire and driftwood it is,white as bone it is,and you will remain with me.Until, time-withered, you falltaken by an endless sleep.Continue reading “Daedalus’ Second Son”

by Kiran Bath 1Google: How early do girls masturbate? in her eighth year / maybe earlier / low tides birthed: a lotus / splitting legs / to conch shell murmurs / she swirls / her lotus / chews mattress / her lotus / bends pillow / her lotus / rubs its cheek / against raggedyContinue reading “Waning Gibbous”

by Laura Cronk I wish I was a priest.I wish I wore buffalo hornsand an ivory orbas a mitre on my head.High holidays and timesof despair-what to doand more importantlywhat to weardecided,unyieldingly glam,form untraceablebeneath the pooling blue.I wish I had that far off look,holding up a white flag to the crazed fertilitycoming between meand the great,Continue reading “Rest”

by Fargo Tbakhi borrowing a line from Walt Whitman because there’s always one week where there is a nightmare. because the boundaries of a city are the friendships we made along the way. because i don’t like my thighs. you do. because the vending machine gave me an extra missile. because someone kisses my cheekContinue reading “Reasons Not to Die”

by C.M. Crockford That taste of sour-red-sweet             as seeds stick                      to                                     teeth: sun hazes over naked legs. You eat more, flush, the ripe burst of summer.

by Chelsea Bunn Outside my therapist’s office, three men are planting ferns, pruning bushes, cutting back the tangled vines           that twine across the building’s bricks, covering them in green, and when I reach the door one of them has risen, and nods his head, and it seems a nod that verges on pity, as ifContinue reading “Forgiveness”