Squeamish

I hate science too much
for suicide—hate veins,
can’t stand the blueness
of choking skin. Earlier,

I watched the ducks slide
down the purpling river
and thought, it will be so hard
to leave this world. Later,

we read his poems
out loud to hear how
brave words sound
coming out of our mouths.


Olivia Olson is a public librarian in metro Detroit where she works to inspire a love of writing in high schoolers. It's easier than it sounds and just as gratifying.

FDR

I was there when they pulled his lawyer
from the Atlantic,
salt marsh mosquitoes fringing the air
sand crawling between my toes
the glib waves roller pinning the shore
his eyes grotesque.
A bare forked animal.
Oh! But the kelp framed his face and crowned
his naked head.
A clue carved in his chest,
FDR
and nothing else.


Eileen Cleary is a poet and nurse living in Massachusetts. This is her first poetry publication.