Tag Archives: Allison Stein

closeness

let me tuck my hands over yours and show you how it feels to stop(keep) breathing, which is: inhale——catch—— (think of all the things you’ve lost and won’t find again. and i don’t mean love or people, i mean cold-skinned … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | 1 Comment

oh god the future—

you break through the glass in the back door, letting your engorged limbs fall through, sticky with maple sap on the floor and cracking the canned pineapple in the pantry immediately open to eat with pressing fingers, slurping down juice … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

birth, vol. II

in overlong fingers you cup the clouding glass dish where we arranged robin’s eggs and whistling grasses when i was littler than i am now, today’s ruby-bright creation of yours straining and heaving to birth something of my own, pressing … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | 1 Comment