When We Were Young
Each moment was thick,pearled into droplets,
not yet thinned.The clink of dishes. The rustle
of hymnal pages turning. Dust moteshovering in a sunbeam....
Easter Night
After a long sleep, I wake,long after the chill of sunrise services in parks,after high heels sinking into wet grass,after even late morning...
The Twin FawnsAfter Peregrine Honig’s The Twin Fawns
In the backroom of this clubmusic so loud you could neverhear the traffic, a drag queen downstairscollecting...
Marsha Olitsky is a poet living in Philadelphia. Bourgeon is delighted and honored to provide a home for her first publication. She writes:
Growing up...
Yellow Whistles, 2021
Buttercups sway in the wind on wispy stems, tiny fairies in grass forests, chirping silently of meadows and woods seeking to escape...
Our Pandemic Blues
my friend Jack tells me aboutthis new syndrome called surge depletion.
it’s likeour human batteries are running low after working so hard to...
A Simple MachineThe noose that was used to hang John Brown is allegedly in the permanent collection at the Massachusetts Historical Society.
Frayed and wild...
