By Grady Chambers
After we separated, I walked in the mornings
through that new part of the city, its streets named
for…
through that new part of the city, its streets named
for…
Explore Poems: Separation & Divorce
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- By Moon Bo YoungI think with you at the center of my thoughts. Europa orbits Jupiter and centers Jupiter in its thoughts…
- By Carlina DuanI wake up each morning desperate for another body. instead, the house cools
with blue windows. my lone… - By Alina StefanescuToday I wept with the kids as we drove
the dirt roads, grass greener than ever. I felt it
closed. The… - By Andrey Egorovi
The impudent clang of locks
lops off blessed sleep at midway.
Angels convulsively putter about
… - By Mike OwensForty books, mostly poetry,
religion, or politics. Four times
the number I’m allowed.
A Smith Corona… - By Anne CarsonShall we sharpen our eyes and circle closer to the beauty of the husband—
carefully, for he was on fire… - By Seungja ChoiYou have abandoned me.
Saying it’s time to break up,
you have abandoned me.
In the mountain and at the… - By Adrienne SuIt isn’t the marriage that maps your course,
only the divorce.
One house has become all penance,
the… - By Anne SextonThe end of the affair is always death.
She’s my workshop. Slippery eye,
out of the tribe of myself… - By Anne SextonI am surprised to see
that the ocean is still going on.
Now I am going back
and I have ripped my hand… - By Lindsey HollandThere’s sunshine with blueberries each morning I sing
fortissimo most evenings while we cook This is… - By Christine Kanownikevery night
an ancient priest
gives me advice
and in the morning
I’m all alone
with nothing
a universe… - By Karthika NaïrSt. Andrews. Forbach. Gothenburg. Sète. Douai. Roubaix. The towns we knew as shapes at night, or a stranger…
- By Zubair AhmedForgive me.
I say to the wall.
My life is paper.
My jaws rust.
Wanderer: singing.
The sky is my home… - By Francine SimonHe stood at the back of his old Church, wanting to join in with the congregation.
Everyone followed… - By Javier Zamora[byline]la herradura, s.v.—¿Do I have a mother? Have her pinkie in my hand crossing the street? Have…
- By Elaine EquiI thought I had lost myself,
but I see it’s you that’s gone missing.
O always elsewhere.
What yacht… - By Marianne BoruchI gave up the pencil, the walk in woods, the fog
at dawn, a keyhole I lost an eye to.
And the habit… - By Atsuro RileyBloomed no intention not no notion
of a child but out you came.
What some got natural mothery
know…