Alison Luterman
Alison Luterman is busy practicing descending minor thirds, going to qigong, and teaching creative-writing classes. She lives in Oakland, California, where there’s a taco truck at the foot of her street.
Liar
I’m a liar, / he offered on our first date, / as we trudged hand in hand / through sliding sand on Alameda Beach.
June 2007But I Can’t Talk Now
When I heard Michael was gone, I went downstairs / and sat at the kitchen table. / A half dozen oranges in a glass bowl, / leathery red pomegranates from the farmer’s market.
April 2007Saddam Hussein Is Writing Poetry In Solitary Confinement
I laughed when I told my friend: / Saddam is writing poems! / No matter how down and out you are, there’s always / poetry! I snorted. / When the last rotten plank / in the basement of your mind has fallen through, / pray that a thin lifeline of words may sustain you.
December 2006Rooster
At the first crack / in dawn’s black eggshell, / my neighbor’s rooster crows / with a voice / like rusty tap water.
December 2004Drama Queen
We all want to be cared for out of pure love, but love does not come pure in this world. It comes stained, and sometimes stinking of urine, as her bedroom did near the end, when her catheter was leaking. In this world, love comes mixed with pity and anger and guilt and all those other less-than-noble emotions that we are not supposed to have. We should thank God love shows up at all.
November 2004
Has something we published moved you? Fired you up? Did we miss the mark? We’d love to hear about it.
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