Alisha Erin Hillam
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aehillam.bsky.social
Alisha Erin Hillam
@aehillam.bsky.social
1.4K followers 910 following 480 posts
Pushcart-nominated writer (she/her), with poems + CNF at ONLY POEMS, Barrelhouse, Lunch Ticket, Consequence Forum, and others. 2025 AIR Literature Västra Götaland Arist in Residence. Historian, Hoosier, & traveler, now based in Europe.
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aehillam.bsky.social
Website screenshot reading "POEM OF THE MONTH: SEPTEMBER" "Late September, Poland" by Alisha Erin Hillam with an illustration of a woman standing with umbrellas over her studying children in the rain Screenshot of the following poem: I take a walk along the river bank— like usual, I want to say. How quickly we adapt to what is new and claim it. Likewise, back at home, my children argue, laugh, and argue. They are finishing their schoolwork, they are doing anything but finishing their schoolwork. This has been the first full week of nothing but gray wet, and I have to wear all of my clothes to leave the flat. Tonight the bare-branched trees along the water raise their limbs to monastery bells, while raindrops tap against my jacket’s hood. A friar in black is talking softly to himself, or praying. Possibly he’s on the phone. I press my feet against the dampened pavement, pause to listen to the speechless city. When the sun sends out thin reaches of rose, then—one by one—the streetlights flicker on.
February 20, 2025 at 11:28 AM
aehillam.bsky.social
and also the fact that Karan Kapoor said the nicest things about said poem 🥹😊💙
Photo of the editor's note on "Late September, Poland" by Alisha Erin Hillam Editor’s Note: Alisha Erin Hillam’s “Late September, Poland” captivates the mood of Fall with its delicate balance of the familiar and novel. I love how this poem captures that liminal space between settling into a new routine and marveling at its uniqueness. “How quickly / we adapt to what is new and claim it,” Hillam writes, inviting us to question our own adaptability. The poem’s strength lies in weaving together multiple threads — a simple walk becomes a meditation on presence, parenthood, and the privilege of travel. Hillam’s attention to sensory detail is remarkable, from the damp chill requiring “all / of my clothes” to the “thin / reaches of rose” as the sun sets. What elevates this piece is its underlying current of gratitude and wonder. In our era of curated travel experiences, Hillam’s poem reminds us of the true value of traveling: to help us see the world — and our place in it — with fresh, wonderful eyes. — Karan Kapoor
January 20, 2025 at 11:49 AM
aehillam.bsky.social
Can I also just say how much I love the illustration especially commissioned FOR MY POEM?!
Screenshot of the ONLY POEMS website that reads: POEM OF THE MONTH | SEPTEMBER With a photo of a drawing commissioned just for this poem, titled Pada deszcz by Derek Mueller And the poem title listed as Late September, Poland By Alisha Erin Hillam Photo of the poem "Late September, Poland," by Alisha Erin Hillam, which reads: "I take a walk along the river bank— like usual, I want to say. How quickly we adapt to what is new and claim it. Likewise, back at home, my children argue, laugh, and argue. They are finishing their schoolwork, they are doing anything but finishing their schoolwork. This has been the first full week of nothing but gray wet, and I have to wear all of my clothes to leave the flat. Tonight the bare-branched trees along the water raise their limbs to monastery bells, while raindrops tap against my jacket’s hood. A friar in black is talking softly to himself, or praying. Possibly he’s on the phone. I press my feet against the dampened pavement, pause to listen to the speechless city. When the sun sends out thin reaches of rose, then—one by one—the streetlights flicker on."
January 20, 2025 at 11:47 AM
aehillam.bsky.social
"Dénouement" by Alisha Erin Hillam
October 3, 2023 at 1:24 PM
aehillam.bsky.social
"Ferrous" by Alisha Erin Hillam
October 3, 2023 at 1:24 PM
aehillam.bsky.social
two of my poems, "Ferrous" and "Dénouement", exploring the disintegration of my great-grandparents' marriage in rural, 1920s Indiana

kindly pubbed by Tab Journal 💙
October 3, 2023 at 1:23 PM
aehillam.bsky.social
this found poem is taken from one of the letters my grandfather wrote to my grandmother during ww2, published by architrave press. I love his voice in this, and how it perfectly distills the fear, uncertainty, and immense hope of those times 🫶
September 25, 2023 at 1:06 PM