GASTROPODA

My mother knows a trick that turns grief to sugar and she hides it all in her ageing spine. Last winter, a sadness drenched my father-...

Why do the geese cross the road to the clinic? To get to the other side where the grass is taller and full of feed. They have no idea how...

The fallen leaves scatter like chickens. A squadron of ducks floats on the river, silently paddling upstream, hunting among the rocks and...

Less make-believe and more, belief-making - is the sea’s love for me. Under a commotion of jealous stars, it rushes around me emptying...

Emma Burger is a writer, healthcare professional, and end-of-life doula. She splits her time between Ann Arbor, Michigan and New York...

The restaurant is called La Petite Escargot. When the chef’s daughter starts learning French, she tells him the name is wrong. “Escargot”...

In whorls of tea-grass, here is where he’d stripe his line of spotted brindle. Born of a paintball ootheca—spread to splatter, hundreds...

You are gorgeous, actually in ochre and gold the way the light holds you, glowing like a firefly under frosted glass, the ripple of your...

I’ve always lived by water so that means there’s always been an exit. The promise of distance slipped under my skin, so I can barely...

i hate to wear orange but i can never resist picking the jewelweed flowers which dot the green of county riverbanks—one of five or so...

Hollow like the leg bone of a bird Fragile like the finger bones of bats Both options offer lightness and allow for flight. Spaces ribbed...

The way your chicken pox scar looks like my name, tattooed across your heart. I joke it’s intentional, you love me, can’t live without...

oldest video ever recorded lost video 1920s france restored remastered monks in a poppy field colorized photo 1850 cameron diaz nip slip...

Editor's note: "moon jelly..." is fueled by curiosity and imagination. What I love about it is what I love about many of the poems I love...

Leave the Light On Thank you for loving me even when I was easy to love. Did you think I was going to say thank you for loving me when I...

my girl, when you grow, if for no other reason to admire how her trousers can still be clipped seven to a row on the drying rack, how...

the margin snails the margin shells edged serrated not a knife they have not split flesh spilt blood and...

My sister and I drive home in the desert on Lone Mountain Road. We approach a dip in the street as a sea of hornworms—Manduca...

I've been watching Dad suffer all weekend in Yellowstone National Park. He hasn't been the same since the divorce. Our campsite is on a...

Editor's note: To read "Slugged" is to experience a certain kind of obsession that is so specific it becomes universal--the hunt for that...