Latest Writing
POETRY
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TO MY POLISH AUNTS by Mary Kovaleski Byrnes
After Ginsberg Skin pale and pocked with moles, your names pulled from Slavic litanies, were strong enough for farm work, had the taste of whole milk: Bertha, Elsie, Hannah, in your kitchens, I sat on wooden chairs, one eye looking out for the coal-grayed cats
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WHAT I WISH FOR by Kay Cosgrove
At the party I would stand as a statue, offering guests talking points about the Roman Ideal and that famous grace. There is more. I’d quell ambitions, have the armies stop fighting, ask for less.
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THREE POEMS by Purvi Shah
MIRA LONGS TO BE MORE THAN A BRIDE The sound of your footsteps is waterfall. Why not thrust off these bangles then?
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