Relic, I cannot cut my way
By Tola Sylvan
“then i am standing outside / your love and it divides / into three neat tent flaps: / lily, lilac, orange.”
We are so grateful to all of our partner-poets for sharing their work with us—please enjoy their beautiful words in our Featured Poetry catalogue.
By Tola Sylvan
“then i am standing outside / your love and it divides / into three neat tent flaps: / lily, lilac, orange.”
By Sara Dudo
In this Poetry We Admire column, we highlight the work of poets who have recently passed in 2026, showcasing some of their poems on seasons and transitions.
“Like me, you are plunging into the abyss, / head first, scared but grinning, buoyed by // dark currents, the bliss of resolution, / a wild misplaced trust in the underworld.”
“This nation, named for the war we wage. / By morning the sun / is a red coin we could mistake / for mercy.”
By Kathleen Loe
“already the trees are emptying / my memories of green. / river shines the color of glare.”
By Norman Tran
“Every 4th of a / second, a new future is born. Every 17 seconds, a future leaves behind only a scent. I / wonder what an almost future smells like. The smell of rusted incense.”
By Kuhu Joshi
“Unafraid of the street dogs’ / persistent sniffing, the wet Delhi wind, / she nuzzled their jaws in her lap and talked to them / like babies.”
By Yuhan Wu
“It is plum rain season and the air is full of things opening too quickly. / In this mumbling wetness something ripens.”
“Keep your / lantern nearby, for when the lake goes dark / there will be no mercy”