National Poetry Month : Nancy Huggett,

 

Hieroglyphs

 

Yesterday. It was cold. Again. Snow crusted
field stiff with wetness, wind. Tamaracks storm-
shaken, small bits of branch and twig scattered.
Desiccated buds, brittle cones still
attached, hatched onto the white
snow. A hieroglyphic bounty, if only
I could read the runes. Everything is falling.

 

 

 

 

Nancy Huggett is a settler descendant writing and caregiving on the unceded Territory of the Anishinaabe Algonquin Nation (Ottawa, Canada). Find her work in Event, Ex-Puritan, Fiddlehead, Poetry Northwest, and Whale Road Review. She’s won some awards (RBC PEN Canada 2024 New Voices) and a gazillion rejections. She keeps writing. Her first book of poetry will be published in 2027 by University of Alberta Press.

National Poetry Month: Emily Shafer,

 

 

sticky note

I trust myself like square boxes 

or starting over four stops less

some swims occur only after the birth cycle

I’d want to write it all like this

again chose to stop out the burn

keep a chase spatula for leftover

I love having space for my elbows

 

 

 

 

Emily Shafer is a poet and photographer. She is an incoming MFA candidate in Image Text at Cornell University, has an MFA in Creative Writing, Poetry from Brooklyn College, and teaches first-year writing at CUNY. She is the author of it’s too early for poetry (Proper Tales Press, 2025) and publications in The Academy of American Poets, The Brooklyn Review, and more. Born and raised in Rochester, N.Y., she lives and works in New York City. @emilyshaferwrites

National Poetry Month: Jon Cone,

 

 

THE GHOSTS

The ghosts of a thousand wolves roam the valley.
And the road cuts through rock. Driving late at night,
windows open, wind rushing over your arm.
The stars scattered like seed on a high black dome.
And the mantis held briefly in the headlights’ funnel.
You savor how much there is to be grateful for,
the warm salts from your lover’s throat and lips.
The next bend leads you to a smoke-filled café,
ice-cold phosphates and egg salad sandwiches,
a juke-box and the sad crazy songs you love. 

 

 

 

 

Jon Cone lives in Iowa City. He attended the University of Western Ontario and later Vermont College of Fine Arts. He has published widely, both in print and online. He formerly edited the international literary review World Letter (1991-1998).