Poetic Medicine

BY   ADA LIMÓN I’m not yet comfortable with the word, its short clean woosh that sounds like life. At dinner last night my single girls said...

By Gregg Shapiro   My husband recently confessed that when he gets into bed   every night, pulls the top-sheet and comforter over his legs  ...

By Gary Beck   The streets are crowded on the way to the doctor’s office, making me even more nervous, since no one is distancing. The nurse...

By Langston Hughes Looky here, America What you done done - Let things drift Until the riots come. Now your policemen Let your mobs ...

By Sharon Lopez Mooney  I’ve never seen a dead pelican on my dock where they fish,  does a relative or others fly in formation bringing the ...

Glamour in the Age of the Pandemic    My short hair grows  longer, and longer still. The ends remember they have cowlicks, curling, some up,...

By Richard Blanco I. Although Tía Miriam boasted she discovered at least half-a-dozen uses for peanut butter— topping for guava shells ...

By Robert Frost  O hushed October morning mild, Thy leaves have ripened to the fall; Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild, Should waste them al...

By Marilynn Carter You spread around the world like weeds infiltrating every    country       state          city             town rich and ...

 By Maed Rill Monte  Mama splashes cheap cologne all over your work uniform, affirms her reminders and you leave unkissed — some twenty year...

By Marge Piercy A woman is not a pear tree thrusting her fruit into mindless fecundity into the world. Even pear trees bear heavily one yea...

August Forecast Looking like the usual foggy summer morning  of our Puget Sound town just south of Seattle, normally burning off to sunshine...

By Maggie Smith Life is short, though I keep this from my children. Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine in a thousand delicious,...

By Noor Hindi  Colonizers write about flowers. I tell you about children throwing rocks at Israeli tanks seconds before becoming daisies. I ...

I have done it again.  One year in every ten I manage it—    A sort of walking miracle, my skin  Bright as a Nazi lampshade,  My right f...

By Naomi Shihab Nye A boy told me if he roller-skated fast enough his loneliness couldn't catch up to him, the best reason I ever ...

  This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some ...

By Ada Limón Say tomorrow doesn't come. Say the moon becomes an icy pit. Say the sweet-gum tree is petrified. Say the sun's a fou...

By Kimiko Hahn  I can’t recall where to set the knife and spoon.  I can’t recall which side to place the napkin  or which bread plate belong...

By Emily Dickinson    The Soul has Bandaged moments – When too appalled to stir – She feels some ghastly Fright come up And stop to look...