By Octavio Quintanilla My seven-year-old wife has dinner ready for me by the time I come home. I’m a year older than she is and we have two children, though we are not sure of how we got them. After dinner, and after the small talk, we send them off to bed. They wed their […]
By Alan Berecka Ken Hada’s place sits squarely in the middle of nowhere, so he wonders how it is an older couple knew to climb his fence and find the tree and its dark orange fruit. He writes the question into a poem, one of my favorites, and leaves the reader without an answer. Today […]
By Dylan Lopez For many, peace is a broken rifle scatteredover the dried, blood-clot Field in Flanderswhere trench poppies bloom brass shellsand thick mud washes clean off the milk-whiteheadstones—graves twice-filled with those namelesswho cry peace at last, from their green hollows. Peace is winged victory and hoisted flags hung off the bow of a battleship’s […]
By Alan Berecka To you, O sycophants and brownnosers, you know-it-all kibitzers, you goody-two-shoed darlings of our supervisors, you puritanical drones shackled by guilt to your self-flagellating ethos, and all you other irritants who have chaffed me raw in every workplace I have inhabited, I say to you, nay I plead with you, Relax! And […]
By Margaret Rozga No shirt, no shoes, no service Please close door securely Emergency Exit Authorized Personnel Only Do Not Disturb Do Not Enter Closed Until Further Notice Closed Exit No firearms allowed Enter Open Pull Key available at service desk Women Men Push Men/Women/Family Welcome Wisconsin Poet Laureate Dr. Margaret Rozga creates poetry from […]
By Alan Berecka Riding on the running board at the back of the garbage truck was always cooler than sitting in the un-air-conditioned cab, so one hot July afternoon as we cruised down Commercial Boulevard, I was hanging out and on, mindlessly enjoying the breeze, when two girls I had gone to high school with, […]
By Alan Berecka Valentine’s Day fell that year, fell on Ash Wednesday. A calendar’s quirk—the human condition in a Hallmark moment: “Ashes to ashes, Lust to lust.” Alan Berecka resides in Sinton, Texas. He earns his keep as a librarian at Del Mar College in Corpus Christi. His work has appeared in such places as […]
By Margaret Rozga Yesterday’s sky greyed. Then when we looked up from lunch, rain, the lake’s brusque blue dimpling. We allowed ourselves a lull, sipped coffee. Seagulls circled beyond the walls of windows. Later in the brief sun we walked, found on a park bench a scattering of leaflets, drenched, ink-smeared, dark, still readable: What […]
(about PTSD) By Jesse Manciaz (Xam’le Kuiz, Red Feather) I survived the jungle which tore into me a living thorn that ripped my flesh and infected my mind with, sorrow, regret, and scorn But I survived the jungle When I’m alone in the quiet, I sit on the edge of my bed In darkness, all […]
By Jesse Manciaz (Xam’le Kuiz, Red Feather) I sense it in the streets I hear it in their voices when they speak I feel it in my bones when they gather in the night I see it in their faces with their torches bright When they light their burning crosses more freely than before When […]
By Jordan Tate Maybe if we had bought our bandsany other time but our second dateany other place but the local Walmartany other mood but deeply arousedby now we might’ve been divorcedMaybe the trick was doing somethingwith the love of a gambler and faithof a junky so that despite our intentionseven the pawn shops wouldn’t […]
By Ruby Walker I I want to tell you a story without all the bad parts I want to squeeze out the sinking black phlegm of that sad prologue, that pity party, the melodrama of an unspoken plea, please don’t leave me I’m scared of what I’ll think when I’m alone Firefly street lamps flicking […]
By Gloria Bueno May the aroma of the sage disinfect the negative energy––you claim lingers and haunts your sacred space Each circular sway is that in-itself a prayer to cleanse for the new Moving out the unholy grime that made way in the crevices of your home. How about manifesting a soul mate? New Year’s: […]
By Dylan Lopez IAgainst the foreign hour’s demands I am here with you; a transient tied, Truant of time. A steward to the innumerable imagined, the generations yet embarked. Just as you feel the searing touch of the sun emblazed, so I felt. Just as any of you have known the shimmering coastal reveries, so […]
By Declan Kiely Walking heel to toe misaligned my hips My mind backflips Off the high-dive stack of poker chips Focus ripped from calcimined bones That crack and chip with no moral Life is like a fable Thorn-tipped and scented like floral Pain is not an instant or merely a moment But simply a brutal […]
Translation: Mis amores Where do all my lovers goafter they leave my bed?Some of them point to the west,others point to the north, and I am unsure of what star to follow. Tonight, I hear the wolf’s shadow rise over the church I abandoned. It lengthens with each love that forswears to pray me back. Octavio Quintanilla is the author of the […]
By Octavio Quintanilla Translation: Tengo un amor que me espiá She spies on methrough the windowwhen I gab with death. Watch out.Remember her name: Octavio Quintanilla is the author of the poetry collection, If I Go Missing (Slough Press, 2014) and the 2018-2020 Poet Laureate of San Antonio, TX. His poetry, fiction, translations, and photography have […]
Octavio Quintanilla like my father’s cornfield in the last days of July like the smile of the girl who rejected me when I was eight like the taste of beer after being unfaithfullike the taste of God after cursing Him Octavio Quintanilla is the author of the poetry collection, If I Go Missing (Slough […]
Octavio Quintanilla Translation: Not necessary to be transformed Into a bull Nor dress in an angel’s furEach commandment A vise for youBut for me ten ways of boastingMy power Still you’re the dark voice Grieving in the desertThe body’s bellow Profane water gushing Between my three brains Among all things Blessed is your love Octavio Quintanilla is the author of the poetry collection, If […]
Matthew Tavares Walking the floor of my classroom during a standardized test I notice the graphic on the back of a student’s black hoodie. A man of bones holds out a rose on the edge of the moon. Outside, I stretch one arm towards the sky, reaching to catch the falling petals. There is a […]
Emily Bourgeois Emily Josephine Bourgeois is a poet and student who is Washington born, Nebraska raised, and living in San Antonio for now. While she mostly focuses on spoken word, more of her written work can be found in past editions of the Trinity Review. She believes in the radical potential of storytelling and can […]
Matthew Tavares “It was reported her hat and cane had been found on the bank of the Ouse River. Mrs. Woolf had been ill for some time.” -New York Times article from April 3rd, 1941 The locusts float like smoke in the still air. Silence chokes the girl lying on the sheetless mattress. Sweat […]
Kierstin Wilkins I rinse my hand under running water and just like that, staring at the mirror, I am made new. It doesn’t matter that this is not a church, or that I am not praying to God. In this moment of appreciation, I am praying to myself […]
Stephanie Rao if when you slice open an infant’s belly and water spills in the pints meant for blood, then that baby seeks hospitality and home, not haven. a place reserved for the dead. the baby’s fingers have pruned and lost their softnesss, the defining infant trait. she has been afloat yellow […]
Mackenzie Cook I find myself in tellingspeaking from a dead woman’s mouthshe forms “God”I spit it out “gay”this woman is stilllooming over her own bedstaring down at my grandmother who tells her“Mama, you are the most beautiful womanmore beautiful than the sun.”than the silk scarves draped over the bedto pay for last month’s cans of […]
Maria Benavides Como se quiebra mi corazón,como la línea de teléfonoYa no me describes los amanecerescon los que despertabas,los susurros que echaban a volar tu imaginación cuando salías de paseo el miércoles por la tarde,las noticias que te comparten tus vecinas, las golondrinas. ¿Dime, qué fue lo que sucedió? Nuestros veranos difusos y tardados se […]
Samantha Ortiz Poetry Contest Honorable Mention It was the way he slouched in the doorway when he tried to smile and say hello,I asked him what he wanted.I wanted to know quick.I needed to know now.He paused.The ring.What ring? I asked. There is no ring.You know about the ring.He tore apart my roomripping every poster […]
Kierstin Wilkins Poetry Contest Honorable Mention Doc, What’s Wrong?Doc, my own dreams keep attacking me.I wake up, stung, at least once a week. What’s causing my pain? It seems an unhealed exit wound is to blame.Do you know what that could be about? An itch to pick the scab of her just won’t go away.I […]
Charles “Chuck” Taylor These little terrorists, the brown oblong kind, not so smart; the blacker, smaller, rounder ones, dodging whatever you pick up to smash them, BLAM, BLAM, BLAM, on the kitchen countertop, inside the bread box, around the bathroom sink and tub, BLAM, BLAM, BLAM, hiding on the underside of drawers, you can tell […]
Magdalen Nicole Cheatham | She spoke to me of the universe, / and I revealed that it scared me. / She marveled at how it continued to expand / and told me that was her favorite part.
Marc Swan | A wise man once said— /
The seed that will kill you is already planted. / I’m not a farmer, horticulturist, into agronomy / or raised bed gardens. I tend more toward walks /
Sarah Zbidi | He almost always hated birthdays, and like the /
Bedouin elders, cried, prayed. / These days, you / almost always feel bad for turning a year older.
Zach Bernstein | Let me show you how the whole world is a puff of smoke hiccupping out of a truck’s back we pray to while shutting our eyes and bowing our heads so we can’t read the license plate number as it hauls away our wooden smiles in rattling tin cans string-tied to the sides,
Hannah Braley | Scrabble racks are a / challenge. / It’s all fun and games / until he plays / “C U N T”.
Daniel Recktenwald | What happened to you then is over now. / And unlike it, you are not over yet. / As you outlived it without knowing how, / you’ll remember. That means you can forget.
Surazeus | The house of the moon where I keep my soul / shines invisible to the eye of greed / for its walls are fragile pages of light / where I write down all the dreams I forgot / in words that slip through my fingers like rain / before I can taste memories of your love.
Alexandra Vansant | Ode to my little hands / gripping mud digging for diamonds / in the yard. If they could just reach below / the topsoil, the shiny buttons would tumble / into their palms.
Nick Smetzer | In heaven, thunder is a hushed tone,
And the sun is a candle’s ember
Dying just to live on the end of its wick
For a few moments longer.