Poetry
This is Thin Air Online’s Archive of pieces that are classified as poetry, both long form and short.
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Three poems by Matt Schroeder
A Stranger, a Stray, a Wanderer The bus stops & police line up…
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Two poems by Andrew Lafleche
seven or eight, dad counted pink baby possums eyes moist closed had to inspect when mother was out theirs and ours reconnaissance before I learned the word hung the hose over the lip of the garbage can turned it on “it’s the circle of life” filling the container “turn off the water,” he said “I’ll…
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A Collection of Poems by JW Burns
JW Burns shares ‘Fishing’, ‘Home’, and ‘Invitation’.
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Three poems by Melinda Giordano
The Star That Slept The sun had lost its heat; And knelt at the cold well in the clouds. Like a ball of cotton It erased the color From the sky’s fingernail Leaving it neutral and insipid; A stopped clock, A stymied year, A world before form and meaning Had twitched it into life; A…
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GETTING AT THE LAST KETCHUP IN THE BOTTLE by John Grey
Thumb can’t reach. The fork and spoon just won’t fit through the bottle’s narrow neck. I slap my hand against the Heinz sticker but nothing inside shakes loose. I could tip it upside down but, when it comes to ketchup, gravity takes its time. The easiest thing would be toss this bottle in the trash…
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Cancer #2 by Natasha Deonarain
“There’s a certain callous humor we need to practice medicine. It keeps us doing what we need to do.” —from an anonymous Medical Resident’s online comment I knew you were there alone, sitting in the darkness of your house, sitting next to your enormous patio window shaded with the excuse that it costs too much…
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Prancing by Hiram Larew
Grackle me those slick-spots. Trash take the squawking and like me so black colors flecked or muddy eyes-feet Take over. Sidewalk my branches more and peck whatever’s nothing — …
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Two poems by Carla Schwartz
Lenses into Time 1. 1934, Germany You, in your linen dress, must be three, your brother, in his lederhosen, two. Your arm rests around him like he’s your best pal, and he is, or will be. His face is yours, only magnified — his head, watermelon, to your cantaloupe. You hug him…
