Michelle Politiski is a poet and essayist from Southern California, now pursuing her MFA in poetry at UO. She writes about memory, her home state, and her complicated relationship with grief.
As the gloss gathers on our tent in Monterey my sister curls in a crescent at my side— a flashlight casts us in a golden mist. Her hair collects in a teenage nest. I will remember to braid it tomorrow. She snores away the day’s hike and her mouth gapes like her baby face. I read Cannery Row and recall… Read more →
I could feel my wisdom tooth coming in while you kissed me on a Tempe rooftop, the way it crawled through my gum like a fly stuck in molasses. The morning we road-tripped to Sedona, I realized your tendency for misdirection— a flurry of towers trapped us in Phoenix, and we begged to be released to the road again. My… Read more →