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 Wanda Morrow Clevenger A night wind months before frog thrum rock-a-byes baby, carries on its breast lost Jacob Marley. And little else stirs this chill but ruff and fluting. For two decades an owl waits with me for March tilt and many weeks more before a crisp hoo breaks…