A poem by Kalpna Singh-Chitnis, translated from the original Hindi into Arabic by Mohammad Hlmi Rishah and into English by the author. The Day of Doom Let all the leaves in trees catch fire,Cities and villages drown in a deluge. Let all the continents melt awayOn the palms of our hands in no time at…
The Sky Will Hold : A book review by Candice Lousisa Daquin The Sky Will Hold (Riot in Your Throat Press, 2026), a poetry collection by Elizabeth Hazen Can a woman write simultaneously about the ashen beauty and breakage of living? In her opening poem Approximations, Elizabeth Hazen achieves this, with the lines: “I’ve had it…
Vestige : A book review by Fiona Chamness Vestige (Press Pause Press) a poetry collection by Olivia Pierce Graham One of the asks we most frequently make of poetry is sensory and emotional hyperfidelity. Readers want to dwell, albeit briefly, within the speaker’s experience. Olivia Pierce Graham’s 2026 collection Vestige takes on a valuable challenge in…
By Tulasi Acharya Martin Willitts Jr. is an award-winning poet whose work emerges from a life closely observed and fully lived. The author of over twenty full-length collections and twenty-five chapbooks, he has built a body of work shaped by experience, reflection, and an enduring engagement with history. His most recent chapbook, One Thousand Origami…
Soon It Starts It is my brother, ready to go to war.I realise I may not see him again.He shakes my hand, which he’s never done beforeand climbs into the truck with the other men. I am a child but it’s up to meto defend our mother and our home.I stare at the hilltop. Nothing…
Urban Olympus It was upon the hour the world is caughtthen bitten by the brute which hunts its heavens.Rooftops accommodate the hanging jawof this unsated beast—whatever it may be. Whatever creature ancient tales have saidhas great enough a greed to chew our skies.Who—coarse of manners, gnaws with open mawthat we may watch him swallow daytime’s light. Where…
Death Scene to be Seen A small group of women squat on the pavement,heads dark and dejected, murmuring chorusof smoking friends. Acting as signpostfor visitors unsure of the house numberfunneled into a warm hug, then pointedto the long concrete stairs that lead all the way upto the murky middle of elderly pineswhere I slip into…
When I Was a Child Even while I was in the womb, I had a dream,that, at my appearance, daylight would not cease,that darkness would not be a climate to lingerwherever I was going to place my feet.I dreamed that stars formed a long queue,and at my entrance bow their heads like trees;let me walk…
Tenderloin She slept in full sunwrapped in a winter coaton the sidewalkbeneath the windowof the mattress storeHer dreams shaped by the cleanwhite bedthree feet above her headthe taunt of a red and yellow sale signon the unwelcoming doortransformed in dreamscapeto the letters of her nameon a room of her ownthere through the large picturewindow she…
A poem by Ihor Pavlyuk: The chirping swallows swung in haste And flew across.
I heard the medals clink against His iron cross, And then I gave him the book I wrote. So, there we sat – Two sober men by the endless road, So clear, so sad.
A poem by Matvii Smirnov: They will be old and wise when they are back from the war. Where they had gone was no place for a fine metaphor…
Two poems by Fabrice B. Pousin: Bodies lay in the smoky scenery flies enjoy an undue repast in the sun scents have vanished in the foul air in his uniform the little man grins his lieutenants mimic his gaze to flatter.
