Maggie Queeney’s poetry chapbook, settler, has been selected by Shane McCrae in the 2017 Baltic Chapbook Contest and will be published by Rabbit Catastrophe Press. You can also check out three of Maggie’s poems in Issue 95. Many congrats, Maggie!
What difference between crying and calling, cursing and summoning, the frantic limbs of a lamb and the bared legs of a boy. What difference between the desire to laugh at the adults running, spades and rakes in hand, and the need to know they would run at his call. Remember most do not know the […]
A child teethes. Through the door, a loop of scream and whimper traces the length of the porch. Morning, I find the blood left by the raw gums rubbed like a hand along the rail, the floor, the frame and lock to the front door. At night, I stay inside, listen to the tap somnolent […]
A telephone splices the night—lit nerve ending or lightning strike—and the child rises all lung, all mouth and howl. The man rises from inside the mother, rises from the casts of his fingers clutched into the sheets and separates the boy’s head from his chest. He runs, knife in hand, body in arms, floor to […]
Maggie Queeney reads and writes in a pink house in Chicago. Her most recent work can be found in PInwheel, Copper Nickel, Matter, and Southern Poetry Review.