poem index


Nicole Callihan

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Nicole Callihan. Photo credit: Amanda Field.

Nicole Callihan is the author of Translucence, co-written with Samar Abdel Jaber (Indolent Books, 2018); Downtown (Finishing Line Press, 2017); The Deeply Flawed Human (Deadly Chaps, 2016); and SuperLoop (Sock Monkey Press, 2014). She teaches at New York University's Tandon School of Engineering and lives in Brooklyn, New York.

by this poet

& of the lattermath I can only say 
that with the rain the cattails grew so high 
that the longing nearly subsided
this morning I am all moonshine on the snowbank
clockwise back to a better self I am
tenderfoot daisywheel though yesterday I was
warpath and daydreams of underfoot animals
o my fishhook in

The name of this technique,
he said,
is afternoon.

Then pressed his mouth
to her collarbone,

pressed his mouth
’til evening
broke the window.


I walked to the end of the pier
and threw your name into the sea,
and when you flew back to me—
a silver fish—I devoured you,
cleaned you to the bone. I was through.
But then you came back again:
as sun on water. I reached for you,
skimmed my hands over the light of you.