The American Poetry Review


Three hearts beat in the octopusbut I have noneto spare. I won’t let this onewithout you. I’m fartoo selfish to grant youyour wish. No,let me disappear, first,after yearswaking each morning with a chest openthe way a trenchmight open after a quake.It’s takenthis long to see the fault linesbetween usare nothing from an aerial view:mere foldsin a topography so hugewe’re renderedinvisible, Each footbridgeor trestlewe construct along the impassablewill simply becomethe soon-to-be forgotten remainsof fabled civilizations.

Estás leyendo una vista previa, regístrate para leer más.

Más de The American Poetry Review

The American Poetry Review25 min. leídos
Engagement, Again
By and large, political poetry—poetry responding to national or global events, poetry of “engagement” or even “witness”—was not the norm in the United States through the 20th century. When it was written and when it was read, critical reception was h
The American Poetry Review1 min. leídos
I got all my jeans from Walmartuntil a girl giggled to her friend,“Does he get all his jeans from Walmart?” Now I import them straight from Japan;spun on vintage Levi looms.The thighs come in a little tightuntil I break them in.Only takes a couple mo
The American Poetry Review1 min. leídos
I told my daughter the story of how my frienddied. Almost ten years ago now. How he fell off amountain in Hawaii. And though the story mademe cry she wanted to hear it again and again.And again the next day. “Don’t worry mama,”she said. “He’ll just t