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Tag Archives: M. J. Iuppa
Sligo, Ireland, May 2019 I keep busy, even in a stranger’s home, I press my life (however, briefly) onto theirs. I open drawers to find a spoon; instead of one, I find a girl’s journal, with a near-perfect illustration of … Continue reading
Low tide, end of May, Sligo’s “shelly” river reveals its catch among rocks & reeds. Gulls drift lazy overhead—stillness trembles in shallows below—a flicker is enough to ignite hunger in one gull descending to pick the river’s pocket—fish or eel, … Continue reading
Six inflated blue exam gloves bound together— utterly prophylactic, strangely sputnik— hands floating on a string, hanging in the cubicle’s sunny window at my last infusion. I’m sitting in the chair where I began six months ago, full of held … Continue reading
~ Glencar Valley, Ireland, 2019 Fog in the valley, then searing sunlight. A bouncy lane to a glacier lake. Water without wind, a slow-moving sky. Remote—impression of Alps—a raven watches us—glistening in this vastness. M. J. Iuppa’s fourth poetry collection … Continue reading
Not yet mid-March, and it’s sixty-four degrees, I can hardly contain my desire to stop at the side of the road & walk empty-handed over old ties, over tracks that separate gravel lots from beaches to stand before Ontario’s chilly … Continue reading
In your hands, the scissors snip with a precision that is and isn’t exact. My silver curls fall away from my head in slow motion and tumble down the length of my body, falling beneath my kitchen chair that sits on … Continue reading