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Lisa Bellamy’s writing has appeared in TriQuarterly, The Massachusetts Review, and Cimarron Review. She lives with her husband in Brooklyn, New York, and teaches at the Writers Studio. When not writing or hiking in the Adirondacks, she dreams up names for the English springer spaniel puppy she will one day bring home.
When I drank, many people / tried to get me to quit. / When I drank, I drank the way / this cardinal is smashing into / our living-room window again / and again
June 2017Drunk on red wine and pea soup, my first husband and I will grab our wool hats, pull them over each other’s ears, and pretend we are happy Quebecois sailors home from playacting for the baby.
October 2011I hear cooing and scuffling as I stand on the steps of my building / and at first, with the fluttering, hope for an angel, a visitation, but / then realize I am listening to pigeons, crammed in a window box, / mating over my head.
April 2010Sunday morning in Central Park, chilly September: / I stood, hungry, packed shoulder to shoulder with strangers, / feeling like one of the huddled, shivering Antarctic penguins / I’d observed, over Burmese takeout, on a nature show.
February 2010Has something we published moved you? Fired you up? Did we miss the mark? We’d love to hear about it.
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