by Jason Grant The entire king-sized bed is mine now, but I can’t seem to move from the left side to the right because on the nights you were here—laying there—if I dared move from my side to yours in the middle of the night it was like I-was-crossing-some-boundary you-needed…
By RJ Traub I am April, green and fair, lilacs tangled in my hair, oft-disheveled, awkward, wild, partly grown but mostly child, hope and comfort in my smile, winter-haunted all the while. Though my daffodils glint gold, I was born of mists and cold, struggling, when my wan sun sets,…
By RJ Traub We watched you dancing in the gales that ushered in the cold, frenetically, yet gracefully, you leaves of green and gold, the sunlight on you crimson leaves breathtaking to behold as jauntily you danced all day to celebrate the cold. Your young trees, barely trembling now, look…