top of page

Two poems by Miles White

Untitled #27

good moon tonight. the lake is

alive, and the pale light bends

beneath the waves. you swim

like the sea-girls—mysterious.

the tide taps at my toes and I

moonbathe. you quicksilver to

the shore: the waters are cold,

love, you say. be warm for me.

Untitled #41

On a cool red line afternoon

the old man tells me (really

he tells no one in particular):

“you hope that by the time

you get married you really

know a gal—hell! Turns out

by the time you divorce her

you know her a lot better—”

But the rattle of railway cars

cuts the conversation short.

Later, some backyard evening,

I let the question linger over

lemonades and Grandmama

snarls. “Like hell,” she tells

the girls. “Howard kept me

loyal for too many years ‘till

he took off with that tramp,

and I never knew him at all.”

The ladies hum in agreement

and pass the pitcher ‘round.

Maybe there are no reasons.

Things come to pass and pass

away and that’s all and that’s


Miles White is a Midwestern poet and performer based in Chicago. He has a degree in Byzantine History from the University of Chicago, where he inaugurated the Reviews Department of Euphony Journal. White’s “Untitled (May 6—Dearborn)” placed third in Euphony’s 2019 Short Story Contest.

Recent Posts

See All

Two poems by Kathleen Hellen

city of flaneuse, in crayolas with lines from the Rolling Stones Peach that used to be flesh-colored Indian Red (extinct)—now comes in colors head scarf in magenta, jogger barbie pinked comes dogwalke

"Stop Tagging Me in Photo Albums" by Vicki Liu

My first date’s hobby was going to therapy. The conversation was excellent then I never called him back. Amazing how I once ate a frozen grape and felt like I was tasting god. I’ll never go to a garde


bottom of page