Poems & Essays

23 Feb

Love Amnesia

General/Column 4 Responses


For Omie

When your arms fit in my palm

Your eyes are filled to the brim

With my dreams

Nothing is wrong with the world

When your smile paints everything yellow

Like the sun

Your soft yawn gives me amnesia

and heals the cracks in my soul

Like the dew

I am drenched in bliss

Today, nothing is wrong with the world


Anuja Ghimire is a native of Kathmandu, Nepal. She received her MA in literary studies from UT Dallas and edited for UT Dallas journal Sojourn. She has read poetry for Love Supreme, Word Space. She was featured as a poet/collaborator for Graduate-level-graffiti in Austin, 2008 and was a featured poet in the Austin International Poetry Festival in 2009. Her poetry is published in Red River Review, Words Like Rain, Glass, Clay, Ishaan Literary Review, The Rainbow Journal, La.Lit Literary Magazine, Stone Path Review, the MOON Magazine, Right Hand Pointing, and Constellations. Some of her published writing can be found in http://saffronandsymmetry.tumblr.com

Read More

23 Feb

The Bicycle

General/Column One Response


She watches him grow

into his smile.

Her small blond child

shines with the thrill

of his new bicycle.

It’s his first time.


He swings a joyous leg

over the top.

Her hands tremble

trying to hold

the seat secure.

He pushes off,

wobbles at first,

then steadies himself.


The distance widens,

stretches before her

more and more taut

until, inside of her

something snaps.

Something she cannot mend

or replace.


Irene Howe is the author of The Song She Guards (Biddle Publishing Company 1995) in which this poem was first published.

Read More

23 Feb

Song of Coos

General/Column No Response


The sound a butterfly’s wing makes

as it flutters languidly on a branch

is quieter than the puffs of breath from sleeping babies

Soft wet dreams flit about in their sweet-smelling heads

Honey sweet lips form coos and hesitant smiles

Babies grab at the sleek newness of skin

The world is a gift and they want to rip open the wrapping

I revel in their growth every day

Trying to commit every sound, every smile to memory

Storing those precious remembrances in my mind

as though I am pressing flowers into books

My children bloomed inside me

And every day after their birth

their petals unfurl a little bit more


Ophelia Leong is a wife and mother of three who loves to write. She has been published in Assisi: An Online Journal of Arts and Letters and the University of Pacific’s magazine, Calliope.

Read More

23 Feb

It’s Time

General/Column No Response


No one ever says much

about the mother of the groom,

so she didn’t know

that even if she survived

the plaintive love

of the tenor’s song

she would not be safe

when the crowd dropped

into the wordless it’s time

and the groom stepped up to the altar.


A silent vacuum,

that inward gasp

opening itself

before an unexpected sound,

began in her.

An uncontrollable sob

rising from the groin

of the earth used her

to breathe out a millennia

of partings. The shuddering

walls of her womb reached

for each other, empty hands

groping for what they once held.


She remembers just yesterday

waiting for the contractions

to begin, the pain

of his skinned knee

or latest disappointment

to ease, for his letter or car

to pull safely into the drive.


He can’t get married;

he’s her firstborn

and he just turned three.

She wants to take him in her arms,

look into his deep bright eyes and ask

for just a little more time.

Irene Howe is the author of The Song She Guards (Biddle Publishing Company 1995) in which this poem first appeared.

Read More