I am so honored and excited that I got to be part of the River and South Review team this year. When I first approached…
A symphony of freshness.There you are,betweenPippins, Cortlands, Boscs-The usual, dull, fall fare,assembled like a majestic choir,unapologetically singing: “We’re still here.” Cheeky,Yellowy red,Fuzzy,Vine ripened—The last tune of summer I…
Ann sat on the edge of the couch, staring at the packed suitcase on the floor next to her. The late afternoon light in the…
What do women who don’t take their coats offdo in the summer when it’s warm?Does Freon flow through their veins?Do they sweat through ice-lined pores? I…
The bird hides inside, tucked inside my ribcage,the feathers hide my heart. You can smell its desperation on me;even through the cigarette smoke and birthday…
A swirling, whirling dervish the sky cannot contain me going every which way Wild-eyed as Van Gogh, no salve for the wounds blue on blue burnt red on beige Calm…
In the wildlife rescue video shared ten million times:the fawn paces at the bottom of a dry well,the ducklings peep in a sewer,the fox hangs…
The best way to stave off death is to make it something you want because then you’ll never get it. That is what I’ve learned. My…
Life like a crisp packetdropped into a fire,shrinking and crumbling; dyingand not burning; curlingon hot coals. I sip tea in the morning on the kitchen floorand…
Rain pours down, downpour,pouring rain, rainpour, downrain, and I, inside, beneath a dormered ceiling,cloistered from the hammering pellets, percussive symphony of spatterssinging how sheltered you are. A slope…
Everyone in the village knew about the Man on the Motorbike. A few had even seen him, lurking around the lanes near Saltby Airfield or…
Blood and flesh and bone,bequeathed to me, I raised you to cleave to other geographies,to leave me sliced open by the distancethat looms between us,…
Every few months, I take a picture of myselfand make it easy to findso they won’t have to look longwhen I die.The struggle against the…
Only a few minutes ago, we were talking through the closet walllike prisoners at a poet conventionor lovers caught in the parking lothaving one last dance…
The cloud gnaws atthe spine of the mountain,cracking the bone to get at the marrow,licking the earth’s juicesdribbling down the chin, soaking shoulders,undercutting the highway,…