Today’s choice

Previous poems

Precious Ejim

by | May 18, 2026 | ,

 

 

 

Motherly misery

I don’t know why I look to my mother
for her shadow never stays.
promises are whispered
soft as fur, then shed.

I grow between hunger and shame,
guilty for wanting warmth,
from her body.

she is not cruel.
only miserable.
the kangaroo with a torn pouch
sometimes I’m carried,
sometimes I fall.

I gather my own shelter:
sticks, spit, scraps––
digging through what others discard
to make something that might hold.

then she returns, a bird
swoops low, lifts me briefly,
as if love were instinct
never permanent.

I don’t know why I look to my mother
for her shadow won’t stay.

 

 

Precious Ejim is a writer from Boston, Massachusetts. Her work explores womanhood, longing, and emotional vulnerability in contemporary life. She is interested in intimacy, interiority, and the emotional textures of being young and female.

Trelawney

by | Apr 9, 2026 | ,

What is holding you back from building your wormery?

You can’t say there isn’t the time. Everyone has the time
when it comes to a wormery. Born with the right tools to hand.

David Van-Cauter

by | Apr 8, 2026 | ,

…4am and the birdsong begins, a wet January in a new city and I’m alone watching a man in Minnesota, murdered for protecting a woman from a fascist hit squad. . .

Paul Moclair

by | Apr 6, 2026 | ,

Their shore leave over,
. . . the spirits of the dead are bid farewell
until that time next year, when ritual
grants them reprieve again.