by Nancy Machlis Rechtman He told me that my eyesWere stars twinkling in the nightAnd when he kissed me he murmuredThat my lips were the sweet petals of roses. My heart became the flutterOf birds’ wings soaring through the treesAnd his wordsWere the silky balm on my wounded soul. “Your…
by Jessica Purdy With our husbands, we climb the mine’s walls, to a ledge where moss beds dressed with red flowers cloak the blooming mica, thin glassy sheaves of black and silver, delicate petals, stiff as metal. Our ascent leaves trails of pulverized rock. Mica dust spirited on the air…