Rumpus Original Poetry: Four Poems by Micky Bayonne
once in the splendor of death, we magnify his name two of each for everyone. one for me & for me too. each one …
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FROM THE ARCHIVES: Rumpus Original Fiction: Sabbath
There’s something about stillness that always comes just before the miracles.
ENOUGH: Witch That She Is
A Rumpus series of work by women, trans, and nonbinary writers that engages with rape culture, sexual assault, and domestic violence.
Rumpus Original Poetry: Three Poems by Erika Luckert
you write that “what we worship / makes us what we are,” and if this is true / then based on the poems of yours I’ve read so far / you are both a daughter and a god, / if this is true, I am a vine, invasive, here / to climb a wall. “As tendrils cling and twine / about the tree,” you write, and I try / to unwind your words into a history.
FROM THE ARCHIVE: FUNNY WOMEN: Feminist Valentine’s Day Gifts
Stretch. Listen in hundreds of different positions. Listen a little to the left; now a little to the right.
Rumpus Original Poetry: Two Poems by Sarah Fathima Mohammed
Moons empty in the whisper / of space between us. / Mother’s ankles roll into / my calf, brimming with silver, / with sleep. The night is made / of photographs. We sleep over / the prayer rug, woven from / all the daughters that have / pressed their lips to it / and swallowed.
ENOUGH: Girl Power
A Rumpus series of work by women, trans, and nonbinary writers that engages with rape culture, sexual assault, and domestic violence.
Rumpus Original Poetry: Two Poems by Alexa Patrick
The first boy to call me beautiful / had hair like a waving fist, walked / down the hallway, radius of curl / beckoning white hands that he’d / allow, though, I’d watch a little / light in him dim to tar.
The Rumpus Book Club Chat with Gabrielle Civil
Gabrielle Civil discusses her new collection, THE DÉJÀ VU.
Rumpus Original Fiction: Parallax
Summer was ending, and my sister was shrinking. I first noticed when we were sitting on the dock near the lake at our summer camp; as she stretched her bare…
Voices on Addiction: Motherless in Albertsons
I am sick with grief, triggered by my mother’s death, in turn triggered by Chardonnay.