One Sentence Poems

Hannah Silverstein Shapeshifters The goldfinches rise from the goldenrod as if the field had taken wing from flowers, discarding a life of dirt and crawling things for sky, if only as far as a branch on the gray wetland snag— what might have been a tall birch, once, or a maple, before beavers turned the […]

Hannah Silverstein The Tricycle The girl—maybe five, maybe six years old, band-aid elbow, dirt-scrubbed knee— who (her brother calling her to race) pauses her green trike in the gravel dust to wave at the jumbo jet miles and miles more already away from the outer arm of this spiral galaxy of washboard road and woodlot […]

Hannah Silverstein Where to Look When you realize you were focused all along on the wrong thing— swatting mosquitos the moment the meteor flamed the atmosphere, your friends gasping while too late you look up to see only what assumptions of familiarity have made banal, only a dome of imperfect stars, milky light bridging moments […]

Hannah Silverstein Weather Lately I’ve been trying to solve a problem with my heart, how it clenches, sometimes, as I walk up the street, how sometimes it flares with anger, and then the anger passes, a freak storm so quick, who would notice in this glare, if not for the excess draining down the gutter, […]