The contents of six flowerpots offer an object lesson in appropriation and privilege in Laura McCullough’s poem.
August Goes Like Gold
Laura McCullough writes on the seeming untouchableness of male beauty in this longing summer poem.
Late Spring, Dignity
In this sobering poem from Laura McCullough, we get a glimpse at wounded pride and its relationship to misogyny.
Trance
In this poem, Laura McCullough writes of new Dads and tattoos, forging connections between different kinds of permanence.