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Osmosis by Kendra Dias
This table is covered in cell phones but no one is home. Natia’s smiling pictures are everywhere but none seem to replace the shaking horror when we found out she was gone. When her mother held her...
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Tqkhemali Picking by Kendra Dias
These are not those who drink wine on the mountain top and sing songs of sweetness below the lighted cross You are a guest you are not You are a Georgian you are not Poetry is anything you say it is...
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The Trucchi House by Kendra Dias
The first house my parents ever owned: Mustard yellow and peeling like an itchy sunburn We lived on top of an empire Of roaches and dirt. As I grew up there like a lion I learned when to crouch and...
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Prometheus’ Prison by Kendra Dias
Rocky black and dense the sun warms then draws from the soil each harmony haunting compelling forest roots which feel the pulse of the Doli Panduri trees plucked and strummed each twig by the gusty...
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