La Petite Mort by Quinn White
Cover your ears. I took your father’s virginity. On top, he should’ve faced me, but he stared out his window at the fence, its azalea footnotes. He repeated, [...]
Quinn White
Folie à Trois by Quinn White
Child is chill. Ghosts like she can kill. Stops rivers without a dam. Horses. Will I watch her cross-country show? Horses. Dressage? Some birthmothers are goals like the [...]
Five Poems by Quinn White
Public Works A woman waits for the bus. She drags a wooden chair onto her porch. I hear keys in her purse. Morning, quiet. I walk to sweat-out last night’s vodka. I see [...]
Vending Machine Press 