Michelle Brittan Rosado – Palmar Grasp Reflex I

Michelle Brittan Rosado Palmar Grasp Reflex I My index finger against his palm and the world inside it closes. A flash of neurology. A game we playin the early pastel months until the reflex disappears. We separate instinct from free will, the gray morning  from the idea of May in Los Angeles. Life, for now, is without seasons—somewhere Continue reading “Michelle Brittan Rosado – Palmar Grasp Reflex I”

Michelle Brittan Rosado – Emergency Haiku

Michelle Brittan Rosado Emergency Haiku operating room:no windows, just the round lightlike the last mirror Author’s note: The poems in this series all use the image of a window as their starting point, some in the title itself and others more peripherally. I’ve been thinking of this symbol a lot lately — as a portalContinue reading “Michelle Brittan Rosado – Emergency Haiku”

Steven Sanchez – Ode to Anger

Steven Sanchez Ode to Anger Because, last week, a bigot bashed Robert’s facefor holding his boyfriend’s handon the corner of Olive and Yosemitein the pink neon glow of Tower Theatre,because the KKK stood on that cornerfor Fresno Pride, because you runthe gay bar on Olive and Broadwayand straights call you faggot in their drunken stupor,becauseContinue reading “Steven Sanchez – Ode to Anger”

Michelle Brittan Rosado – Pastoral with Floor-to-Ceiling Window of a Metro Area Airport

Michelle Brittan Rosado Pastoral with Floor-to-Ceiling Window of a Metro Area Airport Approaching the glass that reveals what lies ahead as much asmy own reflected face growing unfamiliarthen familiar again, the men toss suitcases into the bellyof the plane while I look on, though in the dream—or is thismemory—I can’t rememberif I’m returning or leaving, if this isContinue reading “Michelle Brittan Rosado – Pastoral with Floor-to-Ceiling Window of a Metro Area Airport”

Steven Sanchez – Vesuvius

Steven Sanchez Vesuvius I’ve already forgottenhow to kiss you, my tonguealways inside my moutheven when yours slipsinside my lips, each muscleof your tongue a wordI’m too afraid to say.The earth tremblesand we’re used to it.This fault linehas shaken our cityagain and again.The first tremorbroke a vaseand blackbirds flockedto the sky, casting usin shadow.  You heldContinue reading “Steven Sanchez – Vesuvius”