Slipped Stitches
Someone has fake-planted geraniums in a pot down the block from me / and though they are too bright and untextured to be real, they still / sometimes fool me.
Someone has fake-planted geraniums in a pot down the block from me / and though they are too bright and untextured to be real, they still / sometimes fool me.
Hunger is a kind of sermon; to see a lonely thing and want to make it a part of yourself.
By Maya Owen
“I make do, don’t / I, with my double-edged mind? / At this point, what haven’t I tried?”
This July, Palette’s Poetry We Admire column seeks to pay attention to and elevate Palestinian voices, demands, and dreams of liberation in light of the ongoing occupation of Palestine.
We are honored to share with everyone the winners, finalists, and longlist of the 2021 Emerging Poet Prize! This year’s winners were selected by Kelli Russell Agodon.
“Between which silence / and which tongue will we find God? // Bathe all this in light. / One day we’ll darken into form.”
By Khalisa Rae
In Knee Length, poet and journalist Khalisa Rae navigates the nuances of an inherited conservative legacy. Pulling from memories of her religious upbringing and education, family history, and matrilineal teachings, Knee Length is a history reimagined and excavated—a rebellious relearning of desire and respectability, family and faith.
By Marie Ungar
“These days, I often wish I could scrape myself / out from the inside and exist as a thing / un-woman.”
“his sister mentioned the mental illness that tunneled its way through the family tree, the honeycomb clusters of sisters & fathers & mothers & daughters”