Point Off View

we feel we are broken: ‘you, kissing temples.
    i, stuck in church.’
    but broken implies a previous wholeness,
so we settle for fragmented,    so we are all a little bit each other.
    trading pieces: Sicilian defense and we’re all playing white. 
our monologues sink to soloquities    as our thoughts filter in third person limited. 
stained glass kaleidoscope: a selfish mosaic of rejected monasticism.
    oh, what we wouldn’t give for Gabriel.
I

Icestorm

VT

YWP Alumni

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  • Poetry

    By Icestorm

    Generation Broken Mirror

    how do we cope with       seven years of bad luck,
    sweating summer away, treating youth
    like bittersweet apricot, unripe/or rotting,
    when winter brings
    our future’s eroded footprints

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  • Poetry

    By Icestorm

    Prayer of Inheritance

    dear God, this is a hymn; I sing it with my throat still fresh. dear God, this is a prayer; I recite it
    with my head bowed and the arrow nocked. irony coalesces in the strangest

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  • Poetry

    By Icestorm

    Erasure

    i. dremel uvula
    we are girls. to hope is to expect. to revert back
    to sticky hands, to beg between tantrum sobs
    for lullabies. we are girls, we polish
    our sentiments (with sandpaper tongues)
    down to shining minimums

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