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Poetry

Gregory Wolff: Openings

September 9, 2022 by PBQ Leave a Comment

It’s really something, to realize a pond is always in a state of becoming  a bog, and then a sunbound field  of timothy and rye.  Yes, we like our meadows  but any homesteader knows  they have a mind of their own,  how they send up gaunt fingers  of sumac and maple saplings, how they pierce […]

Filed Under: Issue 103, Poetry, Poetry 103 Tagged With: Gregory Wolff

Constant Williams: Chambered

September 9, 2022 by PBQ Leave a Comment

Take them, he wept, his last request  before he died. And we did.  And they laid there in our home  where we compartmentalized them  into non-existence, ignored them  like you might an older drunk at the bar who sits at your table and wants to be loved— or to score some cocaine—and then leaves after […]

Filed Under: Issue 103, Poetry, Poetry 103 Tagged With: Constant Williams

Corrinne Schneider: 207 E. Nelson St.

September 9, 2022 by PBQ Leave a Comment

I went back to my father’s house –  The old maple tree out front is dying  The one I studied from my bedroom window  A hardened face where the limb’s been sawed off    The old maple tree out front is dying  Bark mottled gray, as if struck by lightning  The one I studied from […]

Filed Under: Issue 103, Poetry, Poetry 103 Tagged With: Corrine Schneider

Lorna Rose: Surviving the Rush

September 9, 2022 by PBQ Leave a Comment

No music plays in  the general store in Circle, Alaska, which is full of mukluks and    Wonder Bread.    Villagers fish the Yukon,  memorize river rise,  bet on    breakup.    Long ago miners arrived from Outside to sift, chip  rip fortunes   from earth.    Stilts were drilled into permafrost and structures were […]

Filed Under: Issue 103, Poetry, Poetry 103 Tagged With: lorna rose

Lorna Rose: Leaving Libya

September 9, 2022 by PBQ Leave a Comment

I flood my lungs  with the wet stench of fish and bodies and fuel. Dinghy motor whines against the night.    Salt air grinds my skin ‘til it’s threadbare and there’s no sitting since leaving Sabratha. Body clenches tight to its bones    and shrill muscles shriek and weep and lock up. Damp t-shirt clings […]

Filed Under: Issue 103, Poetry, Poetry 103 Tagged With: lorna rose

Susan Azar Porterfield: Sometimes the World Makes Itself Known

September 9, 2022 by PBQ Leave a Comment

Heat like a hand over your mouth and nose. Heat like old age. You’re scrolling news, screen-eyed, on the porch: who tweeted what/the latest must-read.    Sometimes you’re in two places at once,  isn’t that so?  both awake and asleep, in love and not. Sometimes,    your arm is touched so lightly, you barely notice. […]

Filed Under: Issue 103, Poetry, Poetry 103 Tagged With: Susan Azar Porterfield

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