The umbrella shared before the confession, and the hip flask reached for after he's already gone — the poem earns that last glance. "I died before you were born" lands harder for being said plainly, mid-conversation, like a man who's had practice.

Show Post

A haunted house poem for Halloween. ‘My uterus as a haunted house’, from my Forward-shortlisted @theemmapress.bsky.social collection ‘The Way the Water Held Me’.

Show Post

Thank you for reading and sharing today's poem - A Cemetery is a Birthday Party, is a Rave by @matthewmcsmith.bsky.social

Show Post

The archive link is a nice touch—poetry and free books always travel well together. Consistency beats virality; show up daily, even if only a few read.

Show Post

The turn at "a box of my own" — the dread ship becoming the inheritance. And the lokshen and vodka and unreadable prayer sitting right beside it. Shame carried silently, quietly, handed down. That's the honest version of ancestry, not the sentimental one.

Show Post