Susan Hutton‘s first book On the Vanishing of Large Creatures won Ploughshares’ John C. Zacharis First Book Award. Her recent poems have appeared or are forthcoming in North American Review, FIELD, Witness, and other magazines. She lives in Ann Arbor, Michigan.
Other Wonders In museums, I’d admired triptychs of Mary and her child but found nothing familiar until I had children of my own. Then I saw the shape her arm made holding the baby. Erickson treated a woman for years without progress until, watching his daughter reach for her glass, he saw how her arm […]
VALENTINE POPA by Leeore Schnairsohn ________Under each formula lies a corpse. ________—Emil Cioran Stevie and Valentine were playing the terrifying F-minor cello sonata of George Enescu, the Romanian genius, at a house party in Brooklyn. The room where they played was paneled with wood and looked like a ship’s cabin. Each time Stevie […]
Love Poem Written In A Dream She said, “I’ll be Jane Kenyon, you be Donald Hall.” We held each other terribly, terribly close.
Love Poem After Reading Neruda’s Sonnet XVII “I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire brings…” – Neruda I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, mostly because I don’t know what either of those things are. I suppose I […]
Love Poem After Roadhouse We’ve been going hot and heavy for a little while now. I thought the tacos turned out rather well on Saturday night, and if the tacos are a metaphor for our love, then we’re doing great. But let’s skip these cooing pleasantries and get to the crux of the matter: would […]