by Jennifer Landretti | Mar 5, 2026 | Poetry
Let our ice melt at lastafter this long and killing winter.Let the crooked snagsdrip in the mouths of our emptiest cavesand burble like doves in the lightof a promising spring; meltwater,call the rains into your rush,uncloud the boundless sky,stripe the...
by Jennifer Landretti | Mar 2, 2026 | Essays
AT BREAKFAST THIS MORNING, I set the eggs on the counter and then stared a moment at the carton—brooding, I suppose. A dozen eggs always puts me in mind of fundamental things: whole notes or stony beaches, colored rings in a newborn’s crib. When I raise the lid, the...
by Jennifer Landretti | Jan 1, 2026 | Poetry
sunny morningthe window half filledwith sea across the broken clouds, what a jet left behind– old snakeskin on cobble purple sea cloud— wolf muzzlespitting out the scorpion’s tail Originally published: Poetry Super Highway | January,...
by Jennifer Landretti | Sep 1, 2025 | Poetry
Never changes: cached in the wallets of conventioneers or soaked in the red bubbles of a soldier’s pocket, he poses in heaven as he poses out back by the engine parts and halfway up the washroom mirror of a Smoky Mountain Texaco. His astonishment is shy as a dove in...
by Jennifer Landretti | Nov 18, 2023 | Songbook
I awoke one Sunday morningyour face up over meon a billboard near a switch yardon the road to Calgarystrange to lay there looking upat your paper eyesturned to where she walked awayon the railroad ties. Oh, flat JesusI’ve fallen from your sleevelooking for someone I...
