New Poems by Maura Lee Bee

This week we’re bringing you some poems that I’ve kept in my back pocket. These are the kinds of poems that ask you to observe the immediate world — a pan that still sizzles when removed from heat, elderly hair dye, an animal tooth for a necklace, and a government that can hear but cannot see. It is within these ordinary observations that Maura Lee Bee finds revelations: the unspoken strength of a mother as guide, how fear is instilled even in distance, and the value of a face remembered.

New Work by Christina Shideler

This week’s poem is brought you by ex-co-workers at an insurance agency in New York, NY. While employed as a customer service representative, I often received complaints from individuals with bizarre company names or intriguing personal names. Once a week, at minimum, I would shout out across the cubicle: Oh. My. God. This Broker Has The […]