Sections | Poetry | The Sun Magazine #16

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Poetry

Poetry

In The Dermatologist’s Office, Again

The cancer he wanted / to cut out of my back / somehow disappeared / in the month / since the biopsy.

By Robert Tremmel July 2018
Poetry

All The While The Women

Days & nights I carried two weapons everywhere. / I wore pockets of bullets / across my chest. I wasn’t / of age.

By Hugh Martin July 2018
Poetry

Love And Justice

The Sun presents a selection of poems that speak to the subtle and not-so-subtle injustices going on around us. Featuring Cortney Lamar Charleston, Ashley M. Jones, Eve Williams, Anuradha Bhowmik, Hope Wabuke, Marci Calabretta Cancio-Bello, Amy Dryansky, Brionne Janae, Danez Smith, and Brian Gilmore.

By Anuradha Bhowmik June 2018
Poetry

Chance

They talked about it while soaking in an unusually deep / red tub at his rented house. How the constellations / had gone out of their way to align, so that their paths / converged for a time in the redwoods, in a shingled / cottage above the creek.

By Danusha Laméris May 2018
Poetry

My Sister Blazed Through Her Life

When she was young, she had a small part in a play, but everyone looked at her. Dull her down, the director said, throw an old coat over her. They did, but everyone still looked at her.

By Ellery Akers May 2018
Poetry

Lynn Street

My father hadn’t left us yet / but I have no memory / of him living there.

By Matthew LaPierre April 2018
Poetry

The Big Picture

I try to look at the big picture. / The sun, ardent tongue / licking us like a mother besotted /with her new cub, will wear itself out. / Everything is transitory.

By Ellen Bass April 2018
Poetry

That’s What Experience Is All About

You live the first half of your life / Afraid that something will happen.

By Cary Tennis March 2018
Poetry

Illness And Literature

In those cold rooms with the blue plastic chairs, / sometimes the human condition / is an old Texas redneck with a brushy mustache / reading a Louis L’Amour novel / while waiting for his chemotherapy

By Tony Hoagland February 2018
Poetry

The People I Work With Don’t Talk About Trump

We’re janitors, but we’re called floor-crew technicians. / We work at night. / Darius lives in a trailer with his dad / because his dad has cirrhosis and emphysema.

By Mathias Nelson February 2018
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