Poetry

We believe that poetry is a form of storytelling. So if prose aren't for you check out our poetry guidelines and submit. We publish poems every Monday. 

Poetry Julia Nusbaum Poetry Julia Nusbaum

Upon the Altar

Today I bring myself.
I bring forth form and substance
-weightiness-
I bring forth solidity
sometimes aching
sometimes free
but nonetheless a filler of the void.

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Poetry Julia Nusbaum Poetry Julia Nusbaum

Hungry

Mama was always cooking up something,
      and very rarely eating.
Which is why, I guess, I grew up thinking a woman’s work was:
      providing for others, 
       and never really tending to herself.

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Poetry Julia Nusbaum Poetry Julia Nusbaum

Lesson

heavy legs
sprout feet
that glide fretfully over narrow wood
I know this wait

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Poetry Julia Nusbaum Poetry Julia Nusbaum

On Death

What is it that happens
when the lungs cease to draw breath
and the heart ceases pumping blood
and the body rests?

 

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Poetry Julia Nusbaum Poetry Julia Nusbaum

Voice-less

The best looking of them all
Gets mistaken by the men
As willing to do whatever they may want.

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Poetry Julia Nusbaum Poetry Julia Nusbaum

Little Things

Remember when it was brand new;
when we were brand new.
How we’d sacrifice moments of sleep,
for even the slightest extension of togetherness.
How everything was mystery and possibility,
and inside one another’s eyes was an oasis of hope.

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Poetry Julia Nusbaum Poetry Julia Nusbaum

Hide and Seek as a Way of Life

Her hunger like a secret wanting oxygen, is hiding
  as she crouches, 
  considering it wasteful to truly disappear, as others require her- 
Curiosity nags her careful and considered breaths
  and she hasn’t the ardor to say no to the children
  so she seeks concealment.

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Poetry Julia Nusbaum Poetry Julia Nusbaum

Intestines

I am certain this life is not an accident. I have this ache in my marrow that throbs when I question this existence.    

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Poetry Julia Nusbaum Poetry Julia Nusbaum

The Travelers

Sometimes we stop trying.
We sit back, and let it come.
And I like this softer side of
effort, washing water over
stone, slow and powerful and
steady. 

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Poetry Julia Nusbaum Poetry Julia Nusbaum

Who Am I?

There is not just one thing
I can say that I am
My waters flow wildly
Uncontrolled by some dam

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Poetry Julia Nusbaum Poetry Julia Nusbaum

Delivered

Take this pair of scissors
And carefully snip my seams apart
Remove the thread of these sutures

 

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Poetry Julia Nusbaum Poetry Julia Nusbaum

The Farmers Market

I wonder if God, coolly watching from the stars,
sees me here
alone at my kitchen table, lit by my one yellow candle,
dim warmth on a green-black avocado, purple eggplants
and dusty potatoes crusted in dirt,
a lumpy smallish pile on the scarred table.

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