Today’s choice
Previous poems
Amirah Al Wassif
The Double
My double sits before me now. I stare deep into her, as I do every day after midnight. When I raise my hands, she raises hers. When I wink with my right eye, she winks back. My childish braid sticks its tongue out at us both.
“Good evening, my double,” I say. “Hello,” she says. “How are things? Anything new?”
I consider the question, exactly as I do every day. Anything new?
The sun rises daily. The moon follows us everywhere. Flowers open and close, yet people still pluck them for others with broken hearts. I still count to a hundred before opening any message. The plagues are here. The jealous neighbor is here. The traumas remain.
We still let the large moths sleep among the clothes in the closet, hoping they are the souls of our dead. We still go shopping, read motivational stories, and ruin the environment while holding conferences on how to fix it. Living on Earth, we book digital outfits.
My double is like a photo negative. Her dreams have a voice; her imagination is larger than the galaxy. Yet, she asks: “Anything new?”
I narrow my eyes slyly—the philosopher. I hug myself to reassure us both. The Earth is still here. Yesterday’s breath is still on the pillow. My aunt is still fighting with her husband. New Year’s Eve repeats.
Amirah Al Wassif is an award-winning poet and author. Her poetry collection, For Those Who Don’t Know Chocolate, was published in February 2019 by Poetic Justice Books & Arts, followed by her illustrated children’s book, The Cocoa Boy and Other Stories, in February 2020. Bedazzled Ink Publishing Company released her collection, How to Bury a Curious Girl, in 2022. Most recently, her latest collection, The Rules of Blind Obedience, was published in December 2024. Her work has appeared in numerous print and online publications, including South Florida Poetry, Birmingham Arts Journal, Hawaii Review, The Meniscus, Chiron Review, The Hunger, Writers Resist, Reckoning, and Event Magazine, among others.
Stephen C. Curro
calm river
again, his fishing line
caught on a tree
James Norcliffe
Sarsaparilla Road
travels through swamps
and reeds, over a black
water creek and a narrow bridge
David Hanlon
Not in that parking lot,
not in that residential area,
not in that blue car
splashed with mud.
Mana Misaghi
we make sure to pack a deck of cards for the train, or a sunday afternoon visit to the park. the cards will give our hands something tangible to do . . .
Taḋg Paul
An algorithm guides me through the keys
Each stanza nested in a formal loop
Mat Riches
Hey kid, this won’t mean that much to you yet,
but I didn’t taste my first proper curry
till at least twenty-one . . .
David Sapp
Aimless between
Dropping out
Of art school
And absolutely no
Friggin’ money . . .
Gareth Writer-Davies
it’s a special kind of empty
the footed earth, saluting the sky
Sam Szanto
It beckons from between plasters and hand cream,
the box bright-white, the lettering green.
