The Simile Museum

Tag: Poem

“Your absence has gone through me

Like thread through a needle.

Everything I do is stitched with its color.”

– W. S. Merwin


“Only the animals are seasoned owners.

The lakes belong to frogs with broken voices.

Farms are inhabited by rabbits.

A fox barks like a landlord down the dark.”

-Alastair Reid


“Only two women in my family have poisoned their husbands. The rest curl in on themselves like dried pig ears, fish-hooked spines, walking question marks asking Is it safe here?”

-Lauren Albin

“Trivial as a parrot’s prate.”

-William Cowper

“It’s her birthday, so I smile

but I can’t stop the images

in my own untreated head

— dendrites sprouting threads

like untended ivy, brewing

storms of dopamine and serotonin,

everything out of kilter, ready

to blow.”

-Lauren K. Alleyne

The roads unroll like receipts — connecting

shopping cluster to subdivision,

the valley floor thickening with concrete

and plots of unnatural green—and run on,

unconcluded, in lines that buckle with heat.

– Claire McQuerry

“The colonel returned with a sack used to bring groceries
home. He spilled many human ears on the table. They were like
dried peach halves. There is no other way to say this. He took one
of them in his hands, shook it in our faces, dropped it into a water
glass. It came alive there. I am tired of fooling around he said.”

-Carolyn Forché