A Plague of Cottonwoods

Laura Powers June, and they stand in flowering frustration at either end of my yard. Cottonwoods (geneus populus) are gendered and must be planted accordingly to avoid the outrage of unspent catkins (desiderium). I learned this too late to now keep seedpods sticking to the laundered sheets I’ve strung to dry between them like a… More

The Language of a Marriage

Laura Powers In my lap, The Awakening rests like a pretension. Lately, I’ve found myself going in envy of fiction—not as a poet, but as a woman living a linear life, as she must with no parrot screaming foreshadow in its raucous patois: Allez vous-en! Get Out! Sapristi! Goddamn it! No one is in danger… More