A Red Cherry on a White-tiled Floor by Maram al-Massri and poetry from RHINO

~
I am the thief
of sweetmeats displayed in your shop.
My fingers became sticky
but I failed
to drop one
into my mouth.
--From A Red Cherry on a White-tiled Floor [Karazah hamra' 'alá balat abyad], a collection of poetry by Maram al-Massri, published in Arabic with an English translation by Khaled Mattawa (Bloodaxe Books, 2004; Copper Canyon Press, 2007).

As I wander alone on the river path of cinders and cigarettes I am afraid, as I am always afraid, when I spot a man on a bench up ahead, drinking.  
--From "Girls in a Skiff," a prose poem by Maureen O'Brien, RHINO (2015).

Mother is gone.  Only her things remain: 
heart locket in 10K gold engraved
w/cursive J; medium-sized Austrian 
crystal brooch—
--From "Inventory," a poem by Joe Eldridge, RHINO (2015).

When I met LL Cool J I had just quit Fatburger it was a Saturday morning  & not knowing how I would afford to pay for it I drove my new-used powder blue Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme with my sister to the Sam Goody's off Washington Blvd in South Central adjacent & we met our friend/ex-coworker Squeak who was 17 with glasses & 6 feet tall & nicknamed by the same ex-coworker who nicknamed me Twin 1 & my younger sister Twin 2 . . . 
--From "When I met LL Cool J I had just quit Fatburger," a poem by Khadijah Queen, RHINO (2015).

i'm bent over / the sidewalk weeping / outside the public theatre / you stand above me / horse built from a father's beer cans / you still have that other man's mouth on you / i can taste it / with the back of my hands / it's my fault / always is / i say do what you will / + your will is done / so what i was born drunk + mean with my teeth knocked out . . . 
--From "essay on crying in public," a piece by sam sax, RHINO (2015).

A poem by R.S. Thomas from The Writer's Chronicle and three poems by Keetje Kuipers from her book The Keys to the Jail

~

To all light things

I compared her; to

a snowflake, a feather. . . .
 --From "Comparisons," a poem by R.S. Thomas, from Collected Later Poems 1988-2000 (Bloodaxe Books, 2004), reprinted in The Writer's Chronicle (October/November 2013), p. 56.  

 

It was the season of dead moles,

black silken pelts like evening purses

abandoned along the forest path. . . . 

--From "Our Last Vacation," a poem by Keetje Kuipers, published by Connotation Press, Volume 5, Issue 8 (April 2014) and reprinted in her collection The Keys to the Jail (BOA Editions, 2014), p. 15.    

 

 

What if I came here with some idea

of this place, of who I could be when I'm

 

in it: Learned the names for every clouded

body of water. . . .  

--From "Dog Gun Lake," a poem by Keetje Kuipers, published by Lo-Ball and reprinted in her collection The Keys to the Jail (BOA Editions, 2014), p. 59.  

 

 

It was a beautiful night for the rodeo. 

Rain all day and then a sheen of evening

sun.  I went to the grocery store, bought

someone else's bread, some else's

milk. . . .    

--From "A Beautiful Night for the Rodeo," a poem by Keetje Kuipers, published by American Poetry Review (May/June 2013) and reprinted in Poetry Daily and in her collection The Keys to the Jail (BOA Editions, 2014), p. 81.