Robbie Gamble (he/him) is the author of A Can of Pinto Beans (Lily Poetry Review Press, 2022). His poems have appeared in DIALOGIST, Post Road, Whale Road Review, Salamander, and The Sun. He is the poetry editor at Solstice Literary Journal, and he divides his time between Boston and Vermont.
a fly poised on the sill where a shadow falls half bathed in light half my mind on the Hiroshima bombing seventy-nine years ago yesterday considering those who survived the flash shielded by some arbitrary cast of shadow jumping to fifty years ago today Philippe Petit who danced a tensile line between World Trade Towers gazing down into a gawking… Read more →
Then the words stopped fouling magenta air. If grief is a flavor we are infused with it and you are not able to spit. A cold cup of water before the Solstice dawn breaks. Shame like crumbs swept from the counter. Take my pulse. Your pulse. In syncopation. One word we own: estrangement. Or better, bittersweet.