Lit Poetry

I don’t know how many times I’ve circled your block looking for clues: lights on, cars in the parking lot, the dark form crossing the window.   I circle...

When the sun streamed through hair                                                                                                  ~ for Molly And dew sat pensive I thought, and thought Of how I could possibly go. How could I go… The twilight...

Once there was a girl born quiet on these rolling hills, her throat dry, her lips and tongue gone tangled.   She listened well enough and learned...

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1. I am watching you get sick. The whites of your eyes are becoming yellow yolks; cheeks hang like grocery bags. You make diets...

The first ghost I met   said he could extinguish   me like a candle flame.   A single gust, and I’d be gone. I learned to breathe light   into every cell...

Go-go boots.                                                                                                                After Dorianne Laux Satin blouse. Dining hall porcelain cradling oolong.   Garbage liner. Woven handles on a handbag. Zigzags on an auntie’s knitted blanket. Secret...

We were wild and determined that night, me sixteen, firm and flowering, needing to be loved. He was just some guy from school, looking older than eighteen, football player...

The 1799 birth certificate has a poem in its design. We read it, admire the art, and then my daughter asks, “Daddy, what’s my birth poem?” I’m oddly embarrassed to...

Butterflies, Saskia are hard to   catch,   your small legs leaping,   your will   are not sufficient. They   fly, their silvery   evanescence,   is just the right amount   of temporary.   Corey Mesler has published seven novels, three books of short stories,...

You flutter past my passenger-side window, bouncing through turbulence, wings luminous: a velvet Elvis under black light, collar glowing, satin lamb chops rising and falling on hinges.   I hold...