When we kiss the tiny snake in my ear slithers out just so to entwine the shiny snake in your ear. You slip your pointy tongue behind my teeth and... Continue reading→

410 needs to be revised: “Once upon a time” needs to be once upon a time when you were dormant (not a doormat...) when you passed out in the tragedy... Continue reading→

Maybe the poet killed someone and buried them on a night so dark she can’t find the spot, just memories of stone on stone. Even the spade disappears in her... Continue reading→

Open the moon: the ocean is a yolk breaking invisible in the grooves of your hair. My fingers trickle down your spine. This is as close as I can get... Continue reading→

Dusty sills of half-peeled fruit. Phonebooks stir in subway draughts. Paintings fade, the wall’s soft rippling. A blanker page of acres turns. What home’s rapport of flesh and glass could... Continue reading→

Anya Trofimova is a young poet from London, England. Her work has appeared in Poetry Birmingham Literary Journal, Fly on the Wall Press and Chautauqua Literary Journal, among others, and... Continue reading→

Last night, I dreamt I kissed you on the cheek, and you cried. As I waited for the bus later in the morning, I saw a little boy wave goodbye... Continue reading→

All I hear are low notes and misery. Tell me instead of boats and clouds of speed and sex and dreams and bad ideas. Tell me without the clutter. Be... Continue reading→

Dipping your toes into foamy surf your lips into salty ice a satisfied sandpiper skipping along the Atlantic Basin Love unrequited an apogee The push and pull of continental shards... Continue reading→

We sat on your brown couch which used to be my brown couch in your fifth-floor apartment overlooking the park which used to be my fifth-floor apartment overlooking the park.... Continue reading→

There are books thrown across the floor and empty bottles at the foot of the bed and clothes falling off of hangers and it’s not because I’m lazy... it’s just... Continue reading→