By Grady Chambers
After we separated, I walked in the mornings through that new part of the city, its streets named for...
Explore Poems: Separation & Divorce
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- By Moon Bo YoungI think with you at the center of my thoughts. Europa orbits Jupiter and centers Jupiter in its thoughts...
- By Carlina DuanI wake up each morning desperate for another body. instead, the house cools with blue windows. my lone...
- By Alina StefanescuToday I wept with the kids as we drove the dirt roads, grass greener than ever. I felt it closed. The...
- By Andrey Egorovi The impudent clang of locks lops off blessed sleep at midway. Angels convulsively putter about sleep...
- By Mike OwensForty books, mostly poetry, religion, or politics. Four times the number I’m allowed. A Smith Corona...
- By Anne CarsonShall we sharpen our eyes and circle closer to the beauty of the husband— carefully, for he was on fire...
- By Seungja ChoiYou have abandoned me. Saying it’s time to break up, you have abandoned me. In the mountain and at the...
- By Adrienne SuIt isn’t the marriage that maps your course, only the divorce. One house has become all penance, the...
- By Anne SextonThe end of the affair is always death. She’s my workshop. Slippery eye, out of the tribe of myself my...
- By Anne SextonI am surprised to see that the ocean is still going on. Now I am going back and I have ripped my hand...
- By Lindsey HollandThere’s sunshine with blueberries each morning I sing fortissimo most evenings while we cook This is a poem about...
- By Christine Kanownikevery night an ancient priest gives me advice and in the morning I’m all alone with nothing a universe...
- By Karthika NaïrSt. Andrews. Forbach. Gothenburg. Sète. Douai. Roubaix. The towns we knew as shapes at night, or a stranger...
- By Zubair AhmedForgive me. I say to the wall. My life is paper. My jaws rust. Wanderer: singing. The sky is my home...
- By Francine SimonHe stood at the back of his old Church, wanting to join in with the congregation. Everyone followed ...
- By Javier Zamora[byline] la herradura, s.v.—¿Do I have a mother? Have her pinkie in my hand crossing the street? Have her breath...
- By Elaine EquiI thought I had lost myself, but I see it’s you that’s gone missing. O always elsewhere. What yacht ...
- By Marianne BoruchI gave up the pencil, the walk in woods, the fog at dawn, a keyhole I lost an eye to. And the habit ...
- By Atsuro RileyBloomed no intention not no notion of a child but out you came. What some got natural mothery know-to...