Newton’s First Law of Motion

by on Nov 24, 2014

Forty degrees and foggy. Barefoot in the parking lot. His kisses keep you warm enough long enough to see him off.

floodplains
where her family history
ends

 


Aubrie Cox went to university to write a novel and came out writing haiku. It’s worked pretty well so far. Now, she teaches at Millikin University and is an editor for the online journal A Hundred Gourds. Her poetry and prose can be found in publications such as Modern Haiku, FrogpondNANO Fiction, and forthcoming in WhiskeyPaper. She regularly blogs at Yay Words! and sometimes tweets @aubriecox.

The Names Change Every Time I Tell the Story

by on Nov 12, 2014

I barely see the children swimming behind the boats. Twilight ripples from their faint outlines.

Drowning doesn’t look anything like I thought it would.

cottonwood flurries
the field left to return
to prairie

 


Aubrie Cox went to university to write a novel and came out writing haiku. It’s worked pretty well so far. Now, she teaches at Millikin University and is an editor for the online journal A Hundred Gourds. Her poetry and prose can be found in publications such as Modern Haiku, FrogpondNANO Fiction, and forthcoming in WhiskeyPaper. She regularly blogs at Yay Words! and sometimes tweets @aubriecox.