Poetry: 2020s

Poem of the Day


By Sally Wen Mao

In the spring they ripen and swarm the trees,
the waxy little fruits that resemble bald heads.

I collect their remains: piebald, sweet
and sour. A syrup made of loquats

is said to cure cough. Their woolly twigs
splinter in pear blight.


By Jesse Nathan

      As the storm moved in, you marked the night
And later the night marked you. A biblical clap woke
      The house to a spray of sheetrock: a powdered sprite
Sprung off the nailheads. Air flavored with ozone.
                                On the ceiling in the hallway, a halo
                                   Grew orange around a fixture, aglow—
                                And Dad on the phone