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Poetry Summer 2021    fiction    all issues

Cover of Poetry Summer 2021


Diana Akhmetianova

Monique Jonath
& other poems

Alix Christofides Lowenthal
Before and After
& other poems

Rebbekah Vega-Romero
La Persona Que Quiero Ser
& other poems

Oak Morse
Incandescent Light That Peeks Through Secrets
& other poems

George Kramer
The Last Aspen Stand
& other poems

Elizabeth Sutterlin
Meditations on Mars
& other poems

Holly Marie Roland
& other poems

Devon Bohm
A Bouquet of Cherry Blossoms
& other poems

Ana Reisens
In praise of an everyday object
& other poems

Maxi Wardcantori
The Understory
& other poems

William A. Greenfield
& other poems

Karen L Kilcup
The Sky Is Just About to Fall
& other poems

Pamela Wax
He dreams of birds
& other poems

Mary Jane Panke
& other poems

a mykl herdklotz
Mouettes et Mastodontes
& other poems

Claudia Maurino
Good Pilgrim
& other poems

Mary Pacifico Curtis
One Mystical Day
& other poems

Tess Cooper
Airport Poem
& other poems

Peter Kent
Congress of Ravens
& other poems

Kimberly Sailor
White Women Running
& other poems

Bill Cushing
Creating a Corpse
& other poems

Everett Roberts
& other poems

Susan Marie Powers
Canada Geese
& other poems

Writer's Site

Everett Roberts


She who conceals things,

My name is laden with many

unspoken but aching desires.

The unraveling of things I weave:

whose hands have done the work

here, building my love to withstand

the cold I feel as you brood,

back turned, staring out to sea

Have you started to become me?

Meanings that escape understanding,

I sense in your expression

The wavering heart

of the ocean,

A seven-year storm. I know

Far away from me, years later,

I know you will still be thinking of me.

Try, and fail to leave me behind.


My mother’s voice carries far

As she searches, though

I could not cry out. I fight

With everything I have.

To be released seems impossible;

I am fighting Death each day,

Even though I am only a girl, and

Dreamt of wide blue skies

The goddess weeps all winter

I am gone. She bargained with hell;

Through the betrayal, her weakness,

I am lost. My captor drapes me in jewels.

Taken below where it’s warm, I’m unsure,

Crowned and unable to enjoy myself

I once dreamt of gems like these,

To see how they’d gleam beneath the sun.

Freedom is brief, and a pomegranate sweeter.


It’s not often, but sometimes

When I’m by the river

Washing my mistress’ clothes,

I dream I might glide away

On swift currents, away from here,

Escape from this desert;

To where my womb is mine,

I determine to whom I’m given.

One day I might escape, but

Today and tomorrow demand so much.

I curse God with each breath.

My arms are tired and my back aches,

Woman is barely human, even to God.

Totally alone, is there a place I may go,

Where I pray for shelter, and maybe

Another angel to guide me

Somewhere safer?

Yet I must return, this angel says,

My reward is in the next life; he warns

Cruelty may look like love in a desert.

The angel comes. I don’t stop searching for water.


Nymphs sang at our wedding

do you remember the cave

entrance, with trembling

voice and hands,

eyes and promises blazing

like lightning: this love

you give could build cities

And in the dark

I held you at my

heart hesitating,

heavy-limbed, falling

into sleep. The dream

you dare, the dream

you still might lose.

No walls will ever contain you.


My windows open onto the sea.

There’s always sunlight

That floods in, or moon

And the armor in the corner

Glimmers and gleams,

When I remember to dust it off

A thousand bonfires dot the night.

Flaming on shields arrayed, the tide of men

Hidden by a giant, hollow horse.

A dubious prize coveted,

Rings loud when struck with a spear.

The altar I prepare is heavy with offerings.

Must I also fight a man’s war?

Everett Roberts, 33, is a polyglot technical writer and freelance editor who lives in Washington, DC. He has had poetry published in two queer anthologies and a short story with The Write Launch in 2020. When not reading, Everett can usually be found rowing, watching Wang Kar Wai movies, or editing screenplays/books/whatever else comes his way.

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