FOUL TROUBLE

by Tammy Smith

Cartoon by Clay Jones

 

I know nothing about the Knicks
other than they’re from New York

and haven’t won a championship
since 1973. I know even less

about the Spurs. Game 3 at the Garden

means more traffic—

something I can’t ignore.
Maybe that’s why I’m paying
extra attention to the hype, the energy
around the rim so electrifying

I decide to watch, for the first time—
the whole game from my living room

wearing fuzzy bunny slippers 

with soft pink pajamas. 

There’s no point pretending

I understand the game

or its rules—

but I know players
who commit fouls get punished
with free throws. 

A flagrant foul sounds poetic,

as satisfying as the swish

of a slam-dunk—but the notion

of excessive contact
as a boundary violation 

makes me want to learn more

about why David Hollander thinks

basketball can save the world. The court, 

layups, turnovers, every rebound--

offense and defense, skill and hustle

underscores that legendary mantra:

you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take,

which has everything and nothing

to do with deciding who gets benched,

or booing Trump.

 

Tammy Smith is a poet and licensed clinical social worker from New Jersey. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in The New Verse News, Paterson Literary Review, ONE ART: a journal of poetry, Thimble Literary Magazine, LIPS, Autumn Sky Poetry Daily, and elsewhere. She received honorable mentions in the Journal of New Jersey Poets 2026 Poets Prize and the 2026 Allen Ginsberg Poetry Awards.

CHONKERS

by Tammy Smith

Only a stellar sea lion

weighing two thousand pounds

can bark incessantly

and still gain a following.

Instagram. TikTok. Facebook.

Crowds gather

in the city by the bay

to watch Chonkers 

sprawl across K-Dock

at Pier 39,

sunbathing, grunting—

no one accusing him

of wasting his time or talent.

It isn’t fair:

a massive marine mammal

earns devotion

for taking up space,

for being louder

than his boisterous California

sea lion buddies.

When I lived in San Francisco

in my early thirties,

on the edge of poverty,

in the throes of mental illness,

no one admired

my high-pitched growls,

no one praised me

for memorizing every word

to an Otis Redding song

as I wandered

Fisherman’s Wharf,

envy smelled like
salty sea air,
regret like sourdough,
loss like fish markets—
urine.

Tammy Smith is a poet and licensed clinical social worker from New Jersey. Her work appears or is forthcoming in ONE ART, Paterson Literary Review, Autumn Sky Poetry Daily, The New Verse News, and elsewhere. She received honorable mention in the Journal of New Jersey 2026 Poets Prize.

WATCHING ALYSA LIU SKATE

by Tammy Smith

It’s impossible not to yell
“That’s what I’m f**king talking about!”
knowing she nailed it.

High above the ice,
even the Quad God
can’t hide his grin.

Nothing compares
to the joy of watching
her land a triple flip.

The globe spins with that power.
Bliss like this is contagious. 
I should return to the rink. 

Dig out my old skates, 
wipe down the blades,
sharpen them. 

Leave doubt in the arena.
Lace rage tight inside leather.
Release. Rise. Glide. 

Tammy Smith is a poet and licensed clinical social worker living in Fair Lawn, New Jersey. Her poetry appears or is forthcoming in The New Verse News, Oddball Magazine, ONE ART, Grand Little Things, Paterson Literary Review, and elsewhere.

GOVERNMENT SHUTDOWN

by Tammy Smith

Art by Clay Jones

One of the slyest tricks
the mind’s eye knows:
to seal itself shut.
Save face.
Mask up.

Some say good can come
from a shutdown.
Maybe true for the sleep-deprived,
near collapse, knees buckling—

but for the rest of us, harder
to measure the loss:
empty offices, national parks,
stalled paychecks,
parties brawling over healthcare
without fanfare,
without conscience,
in crowded waiting rooms,
filling out the same damn forms.

Blank spaces, blank stares.

A shutdown is an ill-timed rest—
every blink, another verdict
against the people forced to sleep
without the aid
of their American dream.

Tammy Smith is a New Jersey–based poet and licensed clinical social worker. Her poems have been published in ONE ART, The New Verse News, Grand Little Things, Merion West, Eunoia Review, and elsewhere.

BARRIERS WORTH BREAKING

by Tammy Smith

Supersonic prototype jet breaks sound barrier on US test flight: Boom Supersonic’s XB-1 hit Mach 1.1 over Mojave desert, bringing company closer to planned supersonic airliner. —The Guardian, January 29, 2025

Over the Mojave Desert —a sleek 
white object             breaking
the speed of sound —BOOM!
seems less grounding
in the middle of other exhilarating events
when I need less to suggest more
doesn’t have to mean faster 
measures represent progress.
 
If only the high-pitched hum
reverberating tens of thousands of feet 
above a crowd of captivating onlookers 
seared their sense of sovereignty. 
 
The return of supersonic travel
reminds me to pause. Focus
on the fullness of my breath. 
Dig my heels deep
into the             center 
of my purple yoga mat.  
Gently lower my body down
to rest in a child's pose.
 

Tammy Smith is a social worker and a single mother from New Jersey. Her writing has been published in Grand Little Things, Eunoia Review, Poem Alone, and Verse-Virtual.