Fall 2010 / Issues / Poetry 2010 / Volume 41

Lips — Lyn Lifshin

Yours, honey, were so perfect, a little rosebud mouth, not those puffed up blubbery things, my mother says when I pointed out the models’ collagen petals. “Roses,” my mother always says, “that’s what yours were, a nice tiny nose. That’s from you father. One good thing. Not a big ugly one like I’ve got.” I … Continue reading

Fall 2010 / Issues / Poetry 2010 / Volume 41

Honeysuckle — James Doyle

The lineage of honeysuckle scatters the lowlife weeds with their quick little bows, resonant brown leaves, into toadies, footmen for every turn of the wind. The porch leans over and through the honeysuckle for its few astringent breaths beyond the sweetness. I’d love a rocker of honeysuckles for my next birthday, my eightieth, settling in, … Continue reading