On Fishing poem by Stephanie Airth The trout is a sliver of silver birch bark With gills like beet-stained paper snowflakes And a heart black as cherry jelly. It lays congealed on the gutting table; One solar eclipse eye wilts as it stares Up at heaven and sees . nothing. It knows It is the
The Contours of Nature poem by Alex Winstanley Adam named the contours of nature to chisel a line between night and day, snake and lion. He walked naked in the midday sun, letting language linger in the sway of the light like a dryad clothed in the translucent tears of the willow. He let the
Later Days poem by Katie Coopersmith Valencia oranges had gotten crushed in my bag and soaked all the lace doilies, so Jake and I had coffee instead of high tea. It was an awkward forty-seven minutes. He began by clearing his throat, considering me with a few angular, darting glances, and commenting that he’d never
Love, Ophelia poem by Chelsea Pratt Pearls mark poison. The way you shimmer, I should’ve known. The crown jewel’s love-slicked lips sucked drought dry. Did I know then I nursed madness and would I drink again? Earth’s parched cradle for a moment, wrapped around the world. No choice here, not when all narrows to you,
Praise poem by Luke Fraser The candle’s flame licks the thin cracks around the Buddha’s face. On his cheek the light shines through his gouged palm where the bullet left its wound. While the logs of his sanctuary crumble and the bamboo shoots reclaim his holy land, he sits. Waits. Prays. Behind the stone eye-lids
Ground Breaking poem by Stephen Morgan Scroll through the poem with the arrow buttons Ground Breaking View more presentations from thegardenstatuary.
Reflections of Venize: Frari poem by Murissa Shalapata With crimson Bardolino in hand I taste you, Venize your mind numbing routes of destiny like untangling knots of angelhairs in a hurry by the hour glass of spices that smell of sulfur, basilico, lemon and grass I paid little attention to your streets of uneven marble
Grief Pond poem by Maddie Gorman You watch the stone drop into the middle of a pond. There it is: the origin— the node from which all subsequent ripples birth. At the same time you feel the wind whistle through a hole in your heart. It aches like a sensitive tooth. The seasons pile on.