Sections | Poetry | The Sun Magazine #11

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Poetry

Poetry

Musings

A stink bug perches on the bristles of my toothbrush. I know more about ventilators than I should. This morning’s coffee tastes luxuriously of earth. As I run through the forest, pileated woodpeckers hammer and cackle from above. I’ve got an ache in the ball of my foot. Some things never give up.

By Christy Shake September 2020
Poetry

Mothers Of All Pandemics

we call our moms    they’re in their / nineties now    some don’t remember / many do    we are worried sons of mothers / mugged by some motherfucker of a germ / going back to the days when our mothers’ mothers / were alive during the pandemic of 1918

By Brian Gilmore August 2020
Poetry

The Hairdresser

sees the old woman — wheelchair bound, pushed by her daughter — glance / out the window, and goes in back / to fetch a shower cap. The woman tugs her daughter’s shirt and says, almost / inaudibly, It’s raining. / And it is raining. Barely.

By Benjamin Grossberg July 2020
Poetry

Crazy Bitch

God, it feels good to be a crazy bitch. / To stand straddle-legged in a slip dress and stilettos / lashing out recriminations, nonsensical accusations / that leave his mouth agape. To stop being understanding, / reasonable. To rage with the heat of a thousand tigers in your heart.

By SeSe Geddes July 2020
Poetry

Already True

A Selection Of Poetry For These Times

By Amy Dryansky July 2020
Poetry

Selected Poems

from “Wanting Not Wanting” | I wish I didn’t / want things / to be other / than they are

By John Brehm June 2020
Poetry

Thirteen Ways Of Looking At Life Before The Virus

I. / I remember shaking hands: / damp sweaty hands and dry scratchy hands, / bone-crushing handshakes and dead-fish handshakes, / two-handed handshakes, my hand sandwiched / between a pair of big beefy palms.

By Lesléa Newman June 2020
Poetry

Inheritance

My great-aunt was not the type of lady to smoke / out on the porch. No, she lit up in her living room, and up / and down the stairs, and in her bedroom on hot / Mississippi nights with the windows thrown open.

By Shuly Cawood May 2020
Poetry

Two Weeks After A Silent Retreat

How quickly I lose my love / of all things. I nearly flick an ant / off the cliff of an armchair.

By Heather Lanier May 2020
Poetry

Selected Poems

from “Estelle And Bob” | My father kneels at my mother’s grave / to ask her permission to go on match.com.

By Michael Mark May 2020