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best new poetry in form

Weeds are not supposed to grow
but by degrees
some achieve a flower, although
no one sees.

From the June Issue

SIHAM KARAMI

Driving to the Cabin

To my brother


You and I encapsuled in a car
rushed through birches, firs, the wind and sky,
the cabin's road we'd gone down long before
we lost that pungent childhood density
where every breath of summer stretched an hour
of river rush and deerflies' lazy drone.
When were we last alone? A child no more,
I still saw you as mentor, cornerstone.
You told me to release myself, to lose
these weights around my feet, stop reading, dance
my body loose, get high – choose weed or booze.
Unbutton all the rules and seek romance.
I drank the river, threw my whole self in,
but while it flows, I can't find you again.

 

Siham Karami co-owns a technology recycling company and lives in Florida. Her poetry appears or will appear in The Comstock Review, Measure, Unsplendid, Möbius, String Poet, The Centrifugal Eye, Mezzo Cammin, Angle Poetry, Kin Poetry Journal, Wordgathering, Amsterdam Quarterly Review, Snakeskin, Raintown Review, The Lavender Review, Atavic Poetry, Innisfree Journal, and the anthology Irresistible Sonnets, among other places. She won a Laureates' Choice prize in the Maria W. Faust sonnet contest and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize.

 

 

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