The Poetry Project

Riley McLaughlin


Think abundance:

light held pooling
in the corner of a mirror,

the gentle
slant of your mouth.

Sky looks nice
held up by

tops of heads
high spring.

Blink before
a wall of leaves–

we look, we pink
this heaving dread

is loosened.

I feel all my

falling out.

Light Comes in The Name of The Voice

Are you very fearful?

Does it trouble you
to realize we are made
to live inside of

rooms? Heaven
like an attic

or the uppermost
like height like

window spitting
bright shapes

xxxacross your bed
the wall behind.

Worry some walls
swollen, plummy– I’ve

sunk into this
hole and still

I’m loving you, I’m
on my feet for

most of the day.


To be assured
a hundred times this

sparse cool
rain meets slick
wet end in

fruit bottom
fuzzed up
sky. I

have no use
in center.

I am asking to be held
then dropped

like violets
from a car window.

Issue 19