Mike Maggio

Ode to an Avocado

I slice into your thick outer husk
the silver blade gistens as I pierce your skin
green flesh with slight yellow tinge
meet my thumb and forefinger
not mushy almost too firm
I must hold you firmly slice deeply.
My bowl of crisp arugula awaits
my fingers and palms now coated green
I cut half moons nestle you on crisp leaves
perfect.

Copyright Susan Notar 2023

Susan Notar has flown over Iraq wearing body armor and makes a mean beurre blanc sauce.  She is a Pushcart prize nominated poet whose work has appeared in a number of publications including Artemis, Bourgeon, Burningword, Gyroscope, The Forgotten River, and Joys of the Table:  An Anthology of Culinary Verse.

30 for 30 is sponsored by Potomac Review

Business

A diamond. Broken hand.
Blood pours from its nails.
A face, scratched, cut, looks up.
Truncheons smash its eyes.
Lids split open. Unable to see.
Diamonds drop. Unlined hands.
To a store on the coast.
A couple kisses each other.
Claims the diamond from a box.
A light radiates the facets.

Copyright 2023 by Donald Illich

Donald Illich’s work has appeared in literary journals such as Iowa Review, LIT, Nimrod, Passages North, Rattle, and Sixth Finch.  His full-length manuscript, Chance Bodies, was published in 2018 by The Word Works.  He is a writer-editor who lives and works in Rockville, Maryland. 

30 for 30 is sponsored by Potomac Review

Expedition

What I’m learning about losing my mother is how everything’s wrinkle deep,
each fold a wave. Open-eyed expedition into the creases of blurry waters.

It’s not like diving, second-skinned, heavy with oxygen and flippers.
More like hold your breath, hug a limestone close to your naked chest,

submerge yourself into salt and watch what burns into focus. See?
There passes childhood, a wild armed octopus, sticking to a memory

I thought had been buried in sand. And there, the blobfish,
flabby and frowning, lips pressed against its bulbous nose. I reach for those things

with smoother skin, try to ground myself by grasping tentacle. Fin.
But everything slips. Everything stings. And everything, oh so murky. Ink spray.

© 2023 Katherine Gotthardt

 Katherine Gotthardt is an award-winning poet and author of 11 books. Since the early 1990s, her work has appeared in publications such as Yankee magazine, Haigh-Ashbury Literary Journal, Frogpond, North of Oxford, Panoply and dozens of others. Her latest collection, Thirty Years of Cardinals Calling, was published by San Francisco Bay Press in 2022. A former adult education instructor, Katherine writes full-time supporting a government agency and is an avid volunteer. She is a founding member and co-president of Write by the Rails, the Prince William chapter of the Virginia Writers Club. Learn more at www.KatherineGotthardt.com.

30 for 30 is sponsored by Potomac Review

Child, today you are

angular mantis
torn web
clatter of bats

Become
flutter of leaves trilling one toneless crescendo
sway of tall grass lifting visual song
brook’s jabbering psalm,
bright mica

Copyright 2023 Paula Schultz

Paula Schulz lives and writes in Slinger, Wisconsin, with her husband, Greg.

30 for 30 is sponsored by Potomac Review

To Ezra Pound

I wish to swing by the fluff of your beard,
smear your face with lavender oil, and
nest in the hole of your throat I see
through that unbuttoned shirt.

May I please excavate each crease in your
brow to know what you know? Can I rest
for a spell in the part of your lips
as you mourn?

I want to gray like you–spinning silver
wisdom–thicker by the year.

Copyright 2023 Sally Huggins Toner

Sally Toner is a High School English teacher who has lived in the Washington, D.C. area for over 25 years. Her poetry, fiction, and non-fiction have appeared in Northern Virginia Magazine, Gargoyle Magazine, District Lit, and other publications.  She lives in Reston, Virginia with her husband and two daughters.  Her first chapbook, Anansi and Friends, from Finishing Line Press, is a mixed genre work focusing on diagnosis, treatment, and recovery from breast cancer. She is presently a student in the low residency MFA program in Narrative Nonfiction at the University of Georgia. She can be found at SallyToner.com and on Twitter @SallyToner.

30 for 30 is sponsored by Potomac Review

It’s hard to believe it’s been 10 years. 10 years of highlighting poets from around the world each April for National Poetry Month (or should we call it International Poetry Month?). That amounts to 300 poems. Or will by the end of April.

A veritable anthology, all archived right here on this site.

When I first started this project, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to attract anyone who would be interested in participating, let alone a full roster of 3o. Apprehensive, I sent out a call, mainly to poets in the Washington DC area, and I waiting anxiously, wondering if I would find 30 willing takers. In fact, at the time, 30 for 30 didn’t even have a name until Sarah Browning later referred to it as such. And the name stuck.

That first year, 30 for 30 gradually took off. Within a few days, to my surprise, I had a complete roster of poets. Now, poets wait for the call, and if it doesn’t come in time, I get emails asking: is there no 30 for 30 this year? And every year, I am even forced, much to my chagrin, to tell some that the roster has been filled. After all: there are only 30 days in April. And yet: I don’t like to say no.

Over the years, 30 for 30 has expanded beyond the Washington DC area to include poets from across the country and, happily, from around the world. We (and this is not the royal we, for you have helped spread the word) have attracted poets from New York to California, from Wisconsin to Oregon, from Maine to Texas. Internationally, we’ve had the privilege of featuring poets from Canada, New Zealand, Nigeria, Pakistan, Israel and India, to name a few. And this year I am pleased to welcome poets from England and Italy.

Word does get around.

I am fortunate to be able to feature such diverse talent on my web site. I am also fortunate that Potomac Review, a recognized literary journal, has sponsored 30 for 30 for the past number of years and that, through the generosity of donors, I am now able to pay a judge as well as fund other projects. Thank you all for your contributions: for your poetry and your donations. They are all very much appreciated.

As we celebrate this year’s National Poetry Month, remember this: a poem is not just a poem. Each one is an expression of hope, of beauty, and of the human experience. May we all be gifted from our shared humanity.

Mike

30 for 30 is sponsored by Potomac Review