A collection of the best poetry from the floating bridge press chapbook competition. for you.
I carried death inside me for several days, waiting
That man had no ticket to the concert; he pressed his ear to the wall,
but no song found him
Bees were swarming; they made sleeves and a hood around me when I stood still
All winter a deep booming as black ice shifted on the lake, cracking into continents
Listen, I need one that begins with what zoologists call a
crèche
of lions, how the soft gold wings of the pride sweep to enfold those left
behind; how she nurses each
foundling as her own. See,
everywhere boys
are running from something.
What do we know? Tell me
again
