Poetry | The Common

Excerpt from “It Only Served for Divination”

November 12, 2026 Poetry, Translation

By LUISA VILLA MERIÑO
Translated from the Colombian Spanish by CIGAN VALENTINE

Poem appears below in English and the original Spanish

Translator’s note:
I originally stumbled upon Luisa Villa Meriño’s works in a class at Amherst College on the history of the Colombian Civil War. I was immediately captivated by a selection of poems we read from her collection Dios fue mejor cuando era tigre (God Was Better When He Was A Tiger) and later by a brief talk Villa Meriño gave over Zoom. What initially drew me to her words was how immersive the reading experience was; these were poems that held me in space unlike any other. Since then, I’ve returned again and again to Villa Meriño’s poetry, which, despite previous Spanish-language publications in the U.S. by Jade Publishing, has yet to be published in English and is seldom translated, except for the few poems translated by Kim Jensen in recent years. Villa Meriño’s most recent collection, Hijas de las perras negras (Daughters of the Black Bitches), won the Gabriel Celaya International Poetry Prize 2024 in Spain.

If It Wasn’t for Heroin

October 26, 2026 Issue 32, Issue 32 Poetry, Poetry

By AMIYA MORETTA

I wouldn’t be here. Or not like this?
Grandma’s blonde ringlets had gone bald,
her teeth missing slots, her eyes—
gray-blue rime.
My Umatilla grandfather
who had one leg, lived down the road,
hobbled to her heroin loyally.

At night my soul leaves

October 26, 2026 Issue 32, Issue 32 Poetry, Poetry

By KAREN CHASE

my body and
in the morning, it
returns. To exist fully, it

needs more than my body, so
up it goes into the stars, for
sustenance. I open
my eyes and pray—

Trojan Horse

October 26, 2026 Issue 32, Issue 32 Poetry, Poetry

By M. B. MCLATCHEY

It was a gold-seal ruse. A double-
dealing so sublime the gods ordained
it. Settled into their stadium seats,
they wagered on their favorites. Helen,
the imposter bride, circling and circling
the gifted horse. Her Central Casting
lines to the shadows inside. The numbing
non-reply. War-weary, she fastened her
hair in gold and dressed for a city
ablaze. Nothing to do but wait.

No One Is Going Anywhere

October 26, 2026 Issue 32, Issue 32 Poetry, Poetry

By JUDITH BAUMEL

Who can know my despair
at the ones who talk too much.
The ones who don’t speak at all.
The ones who qualify and over-qualify.
The ones who can’t say this without first saying that.
Make them like stubble driven by the wind.

Thank You for Your Attention to This Matter: Mariachi

October 26, 2026 Issue 32, Issue 32 Poetry, Poetry

By TINA CANE

Like yesterday

I could have cried with relief driving around

this little city running errands with mariachi rancheras blasting

on my radio making the everyday feel extravagant like being

in a film about running errands or some other earlier version

I Stopped Dreaming

October 26, 2026 Issue 32, Issue 32 Poetry, Poetry

By JOSE HERNANDEZ DIAZ

I denounced abstract expressionism. I became a realist and portrait painter. I started paying my taxes. I flossed my teeth with regularity. I tied my shoes with punctuality. I wore dress shoes for that matter. I no longer sang in the shower. I stopped skateboarding on the weekend. I threw away my Neil Young & Crazy Horse albums. I tipped my waiter a decent amount. I cut my long hair. I voted early on Tuesday morning. I wore a fitted suit for the job interview. I got a job as a civil servant in Paris. I established good credit and got engaged. I got married in the summertime at sunset on the misty beach. I had half a dozen children. They loved me but worked me to the bone. I fell asleep at a reasonable hour. I started using an alarm clock in the early morning. I ate my breakfast with black coffee and a filter-less cigarette.

Lazy River

October 26, 2026 Issue 32, Issue 32 Poetry, Poetry

By KERRY JAMES EVANS

—after “My Husband and I Fight about Robots” by Sara Burge

Mother’s on her way back from the Fayette waterpark,
where the kids don’t know how to be lazy in the lazy river.
Mother’s trying to float in her tube,
and they’re knocking into me like we’re bumper cars.
In the background, Tom Petty’s “Free Fallin’.”