James Davis May
James Davis May lives in a mildly haunted house in Georgia. His third poetry collection, My Lost Saints, will be published in 2027.
The Patron Saint of Suburban Foxes
. . . Her own orange, though, deepens / in shadow to red, like condensed autumn, and makes her almost invisible / against the brick she edges past / on her burnt-matchstick legs
December 2025Parting Advice
I forgot our host had a cat, / so Tony and I both backed out the door / to grab the Allegra I always keep in my car, / a habit that says a lot about me, / he said, before we threw back our heads / and downed our pills like shots of whiskey
July 2025The Patron Saint Of Airport Sparrows
Now that I make the frequent arrivals / and departures of a child who grew up / and moved away from his parents, / who grow older and sicker and smaller / between visits, I feel too sad to read / while I wait for boarding to start
December 2023The Patron Saint Of Traffic Lights
My child is in the backseat with her mother / and can’t understand what’s happening, / keeps forgetting we’ve already told her / that she fainted and hit her head hard / on our living room’s stone floor
March 2023Spam From The Dead
And two months after the cancer finally ate through / the last tissues that separated him from death, / I get a message from his e-mail address, / urging me to click on a link I know I shouldn’t
May 2021Has something we published moved you? Fired you up? Did we miss the mark? We’d love to hear about it.
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