Menu
Subscribe
Search
Poem of the Month
Muskrat dives

By Louise Carson

Published on March 7, 2016

Muskrat dives, heavy, into a ditch.
      The water-sound shimmers like sheep bells.
(Yes, it’s really like this where I live.)

      Today the light is yellow-orange and very clear.
Today I see a perfect yellow bird among the gray-brown crowd.
      If I were a hawk I’d dive at him: he’d taste so sweet.

More Poetry

Abundance

October 2013
The streets of the living are among the streets of the dead, the houses of the living among the houses of the dead – three centuries of dead packed close, stacked twelve deep. On stones, scissors mark a tailor, grapes announce abundance.

No One Goes To Prince Arthur Anymore

January 2019
Is it because they can’t tell the Casa Grecque from the Cabane Grecque? Because they drown in buckets of oversalted feta, or they have lost their ways through white tablecloths and folded napkins returning from the restrooms?

Radii

September 2015
platonic / platinum. I could lick the hair of his arms to smell the sunlight but let the lilac air wheel-speak our sympathies.