#Poetry Wed: “Skinned” by Katie Knoll

“My uncle is skinning peaches for cobbler because I stink
like city, he says, like iron and exhaust and a girl should know
the taste of something with the sun still inside it, because when I leave
this house and go back to my mama and she breathes me in
he wants me to smell like she used to, like dirt….”

Read the entire poem at Rattle.

#Poetry Wed: “The Truths Only Starlings Will Speak” by Sara Henning

“Wings rutting through dust like glittering,

hardened sky, I’m fool enough to believe

this bird’s dying, not sunning—body unfurling

like a gasoline stain, acrid iridescence rushing

asphalt that could fry an egg to savory silk…”

Read the entire poem at Thrush.

#Poetry Wed: ​”Self-pity” by Cecilia Woloch

“My sister calls all birds suicidal.
Our mother sits in her big green chair,
too weary, even, to talk on the phone.
All afternoon it’s rained and rained—
all the damp world weeping, so I’ve thought.
Self-pity stinks, my mother says…”

Read the​ entire poem at Rattle

#Poetry Wed: “Until” by Victoria Lynne McCoy

“I’m afraid the poem will never leave me completely.
That this grief must need me, the way the bruise needs
the soft of a body. Why else do I survive
what she couldn’t? Why else am I left behind…”

Read the rest of the poem at Washington Square (scroll down to 2nd poem)

#Poetry Wed: “ghost thing stuck in my head like Emily Dickinson/like a pop song” by Elizabeth Gross

“…come to me amplified by summer hunger
in a bad smell at street level, some death
washed incompletely down the drain….

……some death
wears a new old dress on your birthday — ”

Read the entire poem at Electric Literature.