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Red Flag is so much more than just postcards!

We also publish digitally, via the Poetry Express. This format gives us the freedom to publish work that won’t fit on a postcard.

On this page, you will find all of our past Poetry Express poems with information about their authors. If you like these poems and want to get even more poetry delivered to your mailbox, head on over to our subscribe page!

Karolina Zapal: "Like a Pistachio"

11/19/2020

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Like a Pistachio
 
Consider something as fragile as a pistachio shell
At first, still locked to its moon-color
counterpart, it may hang loose, open to losing
its one green earring. Even if the pocket feels
secure, like a fly between seam and button
fingers can easily pry it open with one chipper 
pop! Much less violent and silly to peel an orange 
 
A smattering of halves imitates a broken heart
If we were giants, they could imitate units of wind
Cribs for ants, shelves for beetles, dog bowls for mice
Who are the mice’s dogs? Love, often disguised
as a pet, is its own meager sustenance 
We feed it, sleep with it, take it out to piss, yet it almost always dies 
before we do. When it gets sick, we put it down
 
Push pistachios down a hill and listen to their caroling
They sound like pebbles playing in a child’s hand 
or a gumball machine freeing colors. Eating
we are tongue-tied for once because we’re full 
not empty. But they can bang like gunshots, too many
kind words to a headache, or taste like dirt bombs
hair grease, and eyeballs too sore for midnight
 
Ears flicker, eyes flutter, ankles bend to catch the light
My Q-tip tongue licks the salt from paper boats
while Mother asks if I love him, and no
matter how hard I try, I cannot glue the shells back together
to repeat their function. They’ve been handled 
by toes or eyes, not an expert’s touch, not a sculpture
of the stars, one bright, hot thing on every block

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KAROLINA ZAPAL is an itinerant poet, essayist, translator, and author of two books: Notes for Mid-Birth (Inside the Castle, 2019) and Polalka (Spuyten Duyvil, 2018). Her work has appeared in or is forthcoming from The Rumpus, Inverted Syntax, Tupelo Quarterly, The Seventh Wave, Mantis, Posit, and others. She has completed three artist residencies: Greywood Arts in Killeagh, Ireland; Brashnar Creative Project in Skopje, Macedonia; and Bridge Guard in Štúrovo, Slovakia. She works at the South Carolina Governor's School for the Arts & Humanities.
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Alexandra McIntosh: "The Names of Saints"

10/20/2020

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The Names of Saints 
 
The ones I remember: caramel-crested 
fields of wheat along the highway, 
Saint Jean, the sun, the smack 
of diving boards, a full stomach, 
my stuffed rabbit’s ears, Saint Cecilia, 
her blood collected on napkins, 
Saint Theresa, the neighbor’s daughter 
toddler-dancing in the grass, 
Saint Francis and his animals, 
the cotton collar on a windbreaker 
I hid under when it stormed, Saint Sebastian, 
his body in a Roman sewer, 
my dad’s calloused hand, a lullaby 
cassette tape my mom played before bed, 
Saint Mary, orchids, chicory, 
the squish of worms under rain boots, 
my baby cousin smiling, Saint James 
the Less, the wrinkles in the church carpet, 
the pictures my brother drew 
in hymnals to make me laugh, 
Saint Joseph with hair like my grandpa 
because they share a name. 

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Alexandra McIntosh lives and writes in Kentucky, her favorite place in the world. Her poetry and creative nonfiction can be found in publications including The Raw Art Review, Broad River Review, and Allegory Ridge. Her first poetry collection Bowlfuls of Blue is forthcoming from Assure Press Publishing later this year. You can find links to her publications and pictures of her dog on her website AlexandraMcIntosh.com
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Ashley Green: "Youth"

8/28/2020

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Youth

I.
We’d pass secrets to one another.
 
Hide them behind crooked teeth,
chew on them for hours until our jaws hung slack,
or swallow them whole and cradle the ache
in the pit of our stomachs,
but never once did we let them fall from our mouths. 
 
Our smiles made up of rotten truths,
our insides coated with horror,
our blood thick with each other. 
 
II.
I dipped my legs in tar.
 
Left skin and bone behind,
waded through thick waters,
until I was waist high in Death. 
 
She watched from the shore,
knees bare and pink
beneath the hem of a mourning dress,
and claimed she could not swim. 
 
III.
Her voice compressed.
 
A new tone, tangy and untrue,
rolled off her tongue and hung heavy
between us. 
 
I sifted through the sound,
searched for a familiar note, 
but all I gathered was goodbye
in splintered octaves. 
 
IV.
Our scars no longer matched. 
 
The ways in which I was torn and sewn
appeared slipshod compared to her                                                                                        
silver threads of tidy burden,
and so we both made the mistake
of thinking the other too weak – 
 
she with her secrets hidden
and mine so brazenly shown.
 

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Ashley is Southern California based writer, poet, and general weirdo with pieces in Adelaide Literary Magazine, Rabid Oak, and Sunday Mornings at the River, among others. Find her on Instagram @amoderncrone.
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Anna Nissley: "Ambivalent"

8/21/2020

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Ambivalent
 
I’m learning how to live both ways.
That is, with intense doubt and
Uncontainable joy— 
The kind that comes out in bursts of laughter 
That can’t be explained
As anything I’ve asked for or earned.
I haven’t asked for it, 
Or anything for that matter
But here are blurred skies,
Pop songs, an unprecedented love of succulents,
So many kinds of plastic,
Backpacking for fun,
And the sun (what is the sun?)—  
One day, I was hiking with my sister and a friend
We stuffed our mouths with blueberries
And I almost spewed them onto the forest floor
From laughter.
There’s a picture of it: sunburned face, cheeks dimpled and bulging with berries
And the blur of my hand ready to catch them 
In case they flew out.

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Anna Nissley is a recent graduate of Kutztown University who majored in Secondary English Education and Spanish with a minor in Women's, Gender, and Sexuality Studies. Anna works as an 8th grade English teacher and spends her spare time writing, reading, cooking, and gardening. She is slated to begin a thru-hike on the Appalachian Trail in the spring of 2021.
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Sophie Laing: "Measuring"

8/12/2020

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Measuring
​

A hop, skip, and a jump
across mason jars that connect us 
in the kitchen, your aprons have never 
matched mine. I always see if we can throw 
spoonfuls of sauces across the island 
to each other. I think we should constantly 
be testing the laws of attraction
and of fate. When we sleep sometimes 
I pretend you’re someone else
so when we wake up I can’t lie 
to myself before I look at you,
so I can’t prepare what I feel. 
I need that one renewed, fresh second 
of feeling, seedling of truth before 
we start to scatter spices on counter tops 
throughout the day 
and finish each other’s recipes. 

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Sophie is from sort-of-upstate New York. Her poems have also appeared in Lucky Jefferson, Kissing Dynamite, Déraciné Magazine, and elsewhere. Sophie can be found on Twitter @sophalinalaing.
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DF Paul: "Offer Kindness"

7/6/2020

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Offer Kindness

​When you tell someone
to go fuck themselves
you should be willing
to be more constructive.
Offer diagrams.
Suggest state-of-the-art
stretching regimes.
Share your favorite
genital enhancements.
Go the extra mile
to support their success.


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DF Paul lives in the Midwestern United States. He has never been a good salesman. His work has appeared in such journals as Open Minds Quarterly and The Perch, published by Yale University. More of his published work can be seen at dfpaul.wordpress.com.
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Lilia Dobos: "Pollination"

5/21/2020

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Pollination

Among the summer green
                          we walk with adolescent
palms picking honeysuckle and sharing
                                           our sweet. He picks the good
 
ones for me and tells me to lick
                              the nectar. We race
to the house and back, catching
 
our breaths, faces
                                 blushed, and golden
 heat. 
                                            I remember
 
the backyard trail and its dust: 
the dirty taste
 
in my mouth. I wonder what we 
                            said on those walks, our prepubescent
legs carrying sweat and grime. I give him 
                             a bracelet that says sexy and run 
 
away, far too young to commit
                            to such a statement, far 
too shy to admit
                            I want to.

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Lilia is a current graduate student studying English at Salisbury University, where she also teaches Research and Composition. Her poems have been published in Barely South Review, New Mexico Review, The Shore, and elsewhere.
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Matthew Jones: "On Laughing Woman with Ice Cream Cone"

4/16/2020

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On Laughing Woman with Ice Cream Cone
 
He was this little guy
with a camera
Reflection faint
in the window
Claimed he only photographed
Beautiful Women
a cement mixer
churning
promise of fame
invitation for drinks
and that’s when I laughed

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Matthew Jones lives and works in Massachusetts. His writing appears in The Worcester Review, Sheila-Na-Gig Online, and Vita Brevis Poetry Magazine. He graduated from Tufts University and Northeastern University School of Law. When not working, writing or spending time with family, he fronts the band, Col. Pike & The Expedition. 
http://www.col-pike.com 
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Kristina Heflin: "Unbecoming"

4/3/2020

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Unbecoming

Like the Tortoise and the Hedgehog,
Best Beloved,
I became something I was not
to protect myself.
A strange, exotic creature
all sliding scales and sly, slanted snout
suspicious of the world I lived in –
but that was not me.
So I began to shed my armour
bit by bit, plate by plate
until I was left so very raw and unprotected.
Ah, but finally!  –
the glow of the sun on my back
the tickle of the breeze on my cheek
the kiss of grass on my feet –
finally I was free.

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Kristina Heflin is the author of the chapbook, iridescent rubble, now available on Amazon. She has served on the editorial board of the literary journal Flumes and been published in journals such as Canyon Voices, Fearsome Critters, Shelia-Na-Gig, Coffin Bell, and Broad River Review among many others. When she’s not writing, she enjoys riding her horse, Lucero, and hiking with her Carolina Dog, Jessie. Visit her at www.sagasandmythos.com, on Facebook @klheflin, and Twitter @KristinaHeflin
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Cassandra Baumgardner: "Why I Play Horror Games With the Contrast Turned Up

3/5/2020

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Why I Play Horror Games With the Contrast Turned Up​
​

And I have a lot to say.
Too much.
More than
any
one person
should.
It's as if I'm running out of time,
downing streams of thoughts faster than a glass of bourbon.

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Cassandra Baumgardner is stuck in a constant state of wonder in the deep woods of central Pennsylvania. She's rarely seen without a book or cup of tea, and often daydreams of far away lands. With the exception of a few local poetry competitions, she's never had her work published. She's a spirited cybersecurity and risk analyst whose other biggest hobbies include cosplaying, urban exploration, and staring at the stars.
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