Enter the night coop whistling Through your teeth sing In this awful world of sorrow sing In this wicked path of sin Tuck her under your arm and walk away from the laying birds the cuckold-morning rising in their dumb wings Walk away from sleep Make sure […]
When the ground is lit when your back, hands, intent are lit full well full dawn of dark when the tide swells (forget sea) when the tide swells in soil unseen root stem leaf when the moon is in its age plant that which rises above the ground to bloom […]
Do you remember how close you were to her when she was farrowing and she needed you her bawling drawing you out of bed a bad dream how you washed her vulva, soft warm water over your own hands how you scrubbed even your fingernails under your fingernails before […]
She’d say, Never have a child you don’t want. Then she’d say, Of course, I wanted you once you were here. She’s not cruel. Just practical. Like a kitchen knife. Still, the blade. And care. When she washed my hair, it hurt; her nails rooting my thick curls, the water rushing hard. […]
Native to Kentucky, Rebecca Gayle Howell is a senior editor for the Oxford American. Her debut poetry collection, Render /An Apocalypse (2013), was selected by Nick Flynn for the Cleveland State University First Book Prize. Render was a finalist for ForeWord’s Book of the Year and was praised widely, most notably in a cover review by […]