If the Jornada del Muerto had a Trachea*

Won second-place in Blue Mesa Review’s Poetry Contest, judged by Carmen Jiménez Smith.

Child Lambright Elegy 2: Photo Credit Blue Mesa Review

Child Lambright Elegy 2: Photo Credit Blue Mesa Review

Maybe her mama didn’t even notice she too had almost gone away, on the xeriscaping, not breathing nothing

–Jenn Givhan

Read and listen to the full poem here.

Unexpected Visit

Remedios Varo

Remedios Varo

The house turned hearse.

 

Read Jenn Givhan’s poem at Red Paint Hill.

Madhouse of Spirits

Coil by Remedios Varo

Coil by Remedios Varo

I unwrap a bar of amaranth soap

and wash my own mouth

the way Mama used to do when I’d been profane…   

–Jenn Givhan

(Read full poem at The Collagist)

Blood is blood is

How does anyone
love inside skin?

Thankful to Menacing Hedge for nominating my poem “Blood is blood is” for a Pushcart. You can read and listen to the poem in full here.

Photo credit Menacing Hedge Fall 2014

Photo credit Menacing Hedge Fall 2014

Two Poems at Superstition Review

“TimeBrawleyTheater Capsule” and “Junkyard Halflight” up at Superstition Review.

“Small things come back in pieces.
That time of day I wasn’t afraid to close

my eyes. The white flies weren’t yet lured
by streetlamps; the air still held its damp menudo.
On one side of the house, the cemetery

where I buried a stillborn and a marriage
swollen with ditchwater; on the other side,
a landfill.” –Jenn Givhan

Two poems at Tinderbox Poetry

… my daughter and the girls in ballet-

costume pretend to fly in loops
around the red recital floor, believing

their outstretched arms make wings,
and with faces ready for takeoff,

they uplift in possibility.

–from “Searching the Skyline

How did you end in a river, his boxers for trunks,river walk
your skin for a bathing suit, the pitch
of your voices and the waves echoing a boned-
hollow of the absent music, laced
with regret.

–from “River Pitch

Tinderbox Poetry Journal

Reabsorption Elegy

Sculpture by Kenneth Paul Lesko

Sculpture by Kenneth Paul Lesko

 

Daughter, I won’t make milk for you anymore.
      The body retreats. It reclaims
miracles.

Published in Glint Literary Journal.

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