By Li Bai
Back when my hair barely covered my forehead
I was picking flowers in front of the gate.
You rode over…
I was picking flowers in front of the gate.
You rode over…
Explore Poems: Marriage & Companionship
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- By Kimberly Johnsoni
The last time I lost you, I had turned
To salt. The hospice nurses all assured
An easier passing… - By Martha SilanoIs this the last time I’ll admire the guys
in their neon-yellow slickers, guiding us
to our parking spots… - By William OlsenObservation isn’t serious play. It is living serious. Same heron. It’s used to us, we are as twilight…
- By Molly PeacockYou burst through the door
wheeling your red Swiss
Army suitcase—how had
you packed all you needed
in… - By Molly PeacockWhen you looked up and said, “Thank you,” I saw
your gratitude rise over us like rain.
It seemed external… - By Molly PeacockWhen I feel moved and then say I am touched,
it’s another presence inside me I sense,
the dip of an oar… - By Cornelius EadySome folks will tell you the blues is a woman,
Some type of supernatural creature.
My mother would tell… - By Ama CodjoeI don’t like being photographed. When we kissed
at a wedding, the night grew long and luminous.
You unhooked… - By Richard SikenDriving, dogs barking, how you get used to it, how you make
the new streets… - By DaMaris B. HillEvery wife must apologize for not being her husband’s
mother? But he will not forgive you. The absence… - By Amber AdamsOn the morning after my death
it will seem like any other day
where you will both wake and sleep
and… - By C.L. O’DellOne day
either you
or me
as if drugged
will be staring
at a collage
of photos
in an unfamiliar
foyer… - By Marosa di GiorgioMama said “wedding crowns,” and I looked at the tight bouquets, dark white, forbidding, portraits of…
- By Marosa di GiorgioMamá decía “coronas de novia,” y yo miraba los racimos apretados, de un blanco oscuro, adusto, retratos…
- By Julien StrongEventually my stepfather grew tired
of his exile in the basement
and left. She wept and begged him
not… - By J. V. CunninghamYou are the problem I propose,
My dear, the text my musings glose:
I call you for convenience love.
… - By Shira ErlichmanIn the cab, you turn pink from the streetlights checkering the window.
Just as palpable, you grow inner… - By Ali LiebegottI want to grow old with you.
Old, old.
So old we pad through the supermarket
using the shopping cart… - By Brian GyamfiWhen Eloise tells Kofi she wants a divorce,
he sits naked on the kitchen floor skinning
an ox tongue…