Once in a car, a good boy
shook me hard. If you like it
that way in bed, then why are you…
the tiny bruises on my arms
where his prints pressed into my pink
sleeves rose to the surface like rattles. Good Boys 06.20.2017
c a . 2008
On Marvin Gaye’s birthday, the D.J.
introduces “Sexual Healing” as the sole song
responsible for why some of his listeners exist.
If he & his wife were having trouble conceiving,
he would’ve skipped over the cliché
the way he skipped over the details
of Marvin’s tragic death, the way elders
can skip over real talk: like how, in their day,
producing classic records was as easy
as producing children.
What’s Goin’ On? 06.14.2017
This May, we’re celebrating spring with new work by three of our contributors.
Piz-stack-eee-oh, Graffito registers, the word flooding his noggin
like the weed-choked shrubs crowding what should-be-a-more-
pregnant vacuity surrounding what little remains of Demeter’s
May 2017 Poetry Feature 05.26.2017
MARY JO SALTER
A June day under the Jungfrau.
Near the railway that brought her here,
an old woman sits on a bench.
She isn’t facing the Jungfrau
but the Hotel Belvedere
The Hotel Belvedere 04.26.2017
Gather ye rosebuds come what may,
Old time’s a frequent flyer,
And many lovers that link today
May soon be forced to retire.
Let each of us have one, each of us be one
Soul unlinking from its mate in the past
To eat the golden apples of the sun.
Youth fondly supposes it will last.
Two Poems in the Courtly Manner 04.25.2017
The Common, we’re celebrating Poetry Month with new work by five of our contributors.
Fayum Portrait [Deal]
I’ve sent a map on wax paper–
What he loves arrayed as clumsy petals.
If it arrives,
someone will ink it in his back,
so it will go with him
like a paw stuffed in a casing,
boardwalk mojo to ward off the hail of RPG, AK,
FOB after FOB, Amputee Ward, TBI, Arlington.
April 2017 Poetry Feature 04.23.2017
MARY JO SALTER
It isn’t what he said in
and it isn’t strictly true. Nonetheless
we’ll always have them, much as we have Paris.
We’ll Always Have Parents 04.22.2017
April 20, 2017
The Common we’re welcoming spring with new poetry by our contributors. (Be sure to listen to the audio link to Megan Fernandes’ “White People Always Want to Tell Me…,” read by the author.) March 2017 Poetry Feature 04.20.2017
There is a dark blue bible in the nightstand, a pitcher and torch
stamped on the cover in gold. I rub this symbol
with my thumb and I am comforted, knowing another
man was in this room before me, just to
place his light here.
Beneath a chalk-white winter sky,
her diamond studs gleam.
We sit parked in the Clam Shack lot, halfway
between her house and mine,
in her mother’s luxury SUV. Her alibi this time:
Christmas shopping for her mother on Newbury Street. Twenty Minutes at the Clam Shack 04.15.2017