The Poetry Foundation:
Upon Hearing Amy Winehouse at St. James’ Church in Dingle

By Partridge Boswell

Grief without song could be any stone chapel built of loss
packed with aging villagers lulled reticent as rue
by a rote bell’s tongue, hemmed by iron gates and a yew

The Lascaux Review:
Ode to a Bee on the Small of Your Back

By Partridge Boswell

Blind to what tickles the delta of nerves there
you rub a humming with the back of your hand, surprised by the soft pulse of a drowsy bee

Rattle:
APHASIA

By Partridge Boswell

A British teenager is slowly emerging from a coma nearly a year after being hit by a car, and he has no knowledge of the coronavirus pandemic
— Reuters

Plume: Ode to My Dap

Poetry Prize

It is curious that flower- soft verse
Is sometimes harder than granite,
tougher than a steel cable, more alive than life.
— Robinson Jeffers

Green Mountains Review:
Ode to Westminster Street

By Partridge Boswell

— after cummings and Spinoza

We do not know what a body can do…
how when she crossed the street

Plume:
The New Math

By Partridge Boswell

There may still be time to find the cosine of x. Under an à la mode
mountain of leases and loans, didn’t I taste the square root of π’s

Plume Poetry | Ithaca Lit | The Tishman Review

Poetry Center San Jose:

Digitalis

Didn’t this garden grow a little topsy
scattergun open-bellied over night

and didn’t these under-freckled bells
lean and bow
bob and sway their spires

Facebook Link | Facebook Page