“Poem For Dad,” a Rumpus Original Poem by D. W. Lichtenberg
Poem For Dad My brother called me up on the phone and said Hey Dan dad called me up again. He’s worried about you again, man. Isn’t it about time…
Posts by author
Rumpus Original Poems
381 posts
J.B. Rabin is a writer of essays, literary criticism, and creative nonfiction. Her work has appeared in publications including Harvard Review, Nerve, Bitch, and Natural Home.
“Poem For Dad,” a Rumpus Original Poem by D. W. Lichtenberg
Poem For Dad My brother called me up on the phone and said Hey Dan dad called me up again. He’s worried about you again, man. Isn’t it about time…
“Every Person in This Town Loves Football” a Rumpus Original Poem by Gabrielle Calvocoressi
“Every Person in This Town Loves Football” Even the nuns come out to watch the boys in their gold and blue. Sister Marita, Sister Anne, and some weeks
“Family Elegy in a Late Style of Fire,” a Rumpus Original Poem by Kara Candito
Family Elegy in a Late Style of Fire After Larry Levis In the story no one will tell, my Great Uncle Salvatore is an errand boy for the mafiosi and…
“Eva” by Alison Stine
Only here would snow and low, pale / blossoms mix so easily, blowing foam / which tears at the window, then snuffs / itself out.
“Stockholder,” a Rumpus Original Poem by Rebecca Wolff
Stockholder This view of the mountain puts me in mind of another view, of a different mountain.
“Flat-chested Girl from the NGO,” a Rumpus Original Poem by Tom Healy
Flat-chested Girl from the NGO Know that she has the advantage here
“And Then at the Boat Show,” a Rumpus Original Poem by John Gallaher
And Then at the Boat Show It is true, I feel, that I don’t think about plants as much as I should. Day after day, the explanation unfolds, at just…
“Stabilimentum,” a Rumpus Original Poem by Samiya Bashir
Stabilimentum Bend into my mouth before frost ends us.
“Body Politic” a Rumpus Original Poem by Rachel Loden
Body Politic History, like hair, grows out of the head. The whole corpus is lousy
“Danse Macabre, Mississippi” by Anna Journey
Danse Macabre, Mississippi: My Great-Grandmother Fires a BB Gun There were black-eyed Susans loose at the hip, the limp magnolia blooms worked to a quiver. There were white necks of…