by Marah McCarty she is quiet within her skin,although there is no definition for demureness in the Garden.she does not need to be courageous,feel the adversity which make women stagnate toGod’s greater plan.she is supple and pink,a canvas of the most impractical womanand mankind’s most perfect.he is robust, with large…
by DS Maolalai little to say to eachother this morning.the woman who will bemy wife sips her coffee,eats toast, eats a pieceof fried egg off a fork.I shovel a mess from my plate,fold a badly madesandwich, falling apartlike the buildings outside.but for now it’s stillfunctional – I get it upinto…
by Robert Beveridge (This poem contains a mention of animal death.) Two more crowslandbeside the corpseof the deerhit twodays ago
by T.W. Strawhouse Hello all, I knowthis email will probably be as hard to read as it was to write2 A disturbed field, the dirt upturned by plowleft to be, sun-bleached, and its nitrogen depleted is an open invitationfor ragweed, Lespedeza, and thorn-skinned scatters of invasive Bradford pears3 – Using…
by Marah McCarty My paradigm shifted to accommodate you.You have been a ghost all this time, never caught, never taunted, filling the pages of anthropology portfolios, flat-field lands of headstones.You give no referendums before your decisions. Yet, no one can enact revenge upon you. There is nothing of yours that…
by DS Maolalai working together, all threein tandem, particularwith slow careful movement.we carry it properly,held high from the ground,with the legs at hip-levelto swivel. it’s beena good sofa, I think – many thingshappened here and still,it’s quite comfortable.my first time getting ridof an object which works. my legs nearly go…
by Robert Beveridge The dirt hard-packed, the eggs over-easy,the main street as deserted as ever.It’s a quiet place most of the time,more sawgrass than charlatan. Strongcoffee and redeye, and we’re allin between beauticians, eventhe beautician. Hank down the generalsells uniforms out the sideif you know the password, ice creamonly to…
by Robert Larkin I’ve decided to flowNorth and notReturn The sun risesOver my right shoulderAs the beatingOf hearts and wings slipPast overhead It’s coldAnd quite welcomingNowJust a few moreMiles until ICan rest The hills will remain quietFor some time
by Gloria Cannon (This story contains mentions of abortion.) Gayle was sick with herself and dreaded seeing the day start. How could she not? She was about to do something she had always opposed. The burden of betraying her husband, Derrick, and her faith was a weight too heavy to…
by V. J. Hamilton After I left Shari’s place, the first person I encountered jumped to one side and gave an embarrassed chuckle, as if to say, “Now look what you made me do.” I patted my hair and looked back at the ramshackle house, where Shari’s kids tussled amid…