Founded in Oxford, England in 1984, Verse is an international journal that publishes poetry, fiction, nonfiction, and visual art. The print edition publishes portfolios of 20-40 pages, while the Verse site publishes book reviews and individual poems. Verse is edited by Brian Henry and Andrew Zawacki.
Monday, November 19, 2012
NEW! Poem by Tracy Truels
BEDROOMS, GRASS, AND BLACK WATER
I cannot blame the starfish for they are small and hold on to things.
I woke up next to a man not my husband but who still kept me warm.
I once slept in the field like a buried body, so long slips of grass grew between my wrist bones.
When we sleep you sink into the bed like a fish thrown back into water,
so deep I don’t know if I could reach you with my arm.
We must take something unknown to our grave so that the ones we love will follow us.
I cannot blame the places I’ve slept. I held onto our bed until it broke like a dam.
The grass sleeps above our buried bodies, and the stars hold on to my things.