Editor's Prize Winner | April 22, 2026
6 Poems by Seth Simons
Seth Simons
Anything to Declare?
Only that I woke up today
with the urge to commit
violence, political violence,
the vain but not wholly
ahistorical thought it might fix
something, obviously not myself
but something bigger, small
but bigger . . .
The dead
have no message. I speak
with them fleetingly
in that limitless hour
all the other voices
fade into a twilit
hush. We describe
the past to each other
as if it were a joke:
here’s what might have
happened. Here’s who lived.
Here’s who should have
suffered. Here’s who did.
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