by Brattle Street Review | Jun 1, 2025 | Issue #09, Poetry
By Amanda Wilde We’re on the edge of the AegeanI’m under an umbrella made of palm frondshe’s standing in the seaI’m watchinghe’s skipping rocks. In the sun it’s 30Cin the wind and water it’s 30FI wonder who he isI know his...
by Brattle Street Review | Apr 1, 2025 | Issue #08, Poetry
By Kelly Thorn Leave laundry stacked in piles, my loveKeep off the plane, ignore the milesLet broken bulbs stay dark abovePlease stay with us for just a while Keep off the plane, ignore the milesThe meetings and the calls can waitYou needn’t tread the narrow aisleYour...
by Brattle Street Review | Apr 1, 2025 | Essays, Issue #08
By Dragan Bozdarov Someone I love is in a lot of pain. Because of this, I find myself driving aimlessly and for far too long. It’s not that I don’t like driving; I do. It’s just that I catch myself turning down side streets, dialing up loud and very...
by Brattle Street Review | Apr 1, 2025 | Issue #08, Poetry
By Adam Noto Hakarsa Yours, but the world is not mine.Mine, and it’s yours the most high.Informal modifier of private binding.You provided this lost puzzle.With hope.
by Brattle Street Review | Apr 1, 2025 | Issue #08, Poetry
By Temujin Frost This broken little thingHow could it be the answer?Despite the trouble it bringsThis desperate little thingCould be a star dancer? Something which transcends yet definesBeing and timeHow then can I call it mine?Is it I or something I own?How do I make...