Poetry | The Piltdown Review

Poetry

This Sentence Is a Metaphor for Bridge

from This Sentence Is a Metaphor for Bridge

We’re here because we trust that you won’t leave, because these fallen leaves distort death’s face.
Assassination Nation

Assassination Nation

Whatever anger we might have shared was lost when the mighty arm that God and the weight room gave him brought down a set of knuckles to open my skull to the complicity of my complexion.
Walk a Mile

Walk a Mile

By law, all men should spend time as women. But only a few at a time.
Talking to the Bones: Talking

Talking to the Bones: Talking

What of what’s happened here? There should be space for spaces sacred enough not to desecrate.
Lloyd’s Neck/Slink

Lloyd’s Neck/Slink

Scrupulous, astute: to the City he was sent (by) and sometimes went (with) Master Henry to shoehorn deals.
A Lopsided G-d

A Lopsided G-d

Another text, he wrote; tossed it off his tongue addressing “Negroes of the State of New York.”
Whistlelo

Whistlelo

Freedom?! I live in a lawyer’s clamped attic with Minnie and Cudjoe who ain’t free.
Visions

Visions

White peacock with tail of cloud and flame sweeps before us through blue wilderness.
Fourcast

Fourcast

If the weather looks bad, you should never use four-letter words.
Bird Men

Bird Men

He sits under the nightingale tree waiting to catch those notes which are heavy enough to fall.
2018 Fall/Winter Fiction Contest—First Prize $500

Recent

Upcoming

  • Smoke
    a poem by William Shunn
  • Space Coast
    a story by Carolyn Oliver
  • Wanted Animals
    a story by Richard Bader
  • Ten for Ever and Ever for Tenner
    a story by Heron Greenesmith
  • In the Long Ago
    a poem by Jose Oseguera
Track your submissions at Duotrope