by Adrienne Monestere She was carvedfrom wooden shaftsof blackwood and pink ivory,mulched and pulpedin collated swank.From bolted margins she’s parted from her shieldrebelling against the jotter, torn to an asphalt schoolyard,mutilated to a ball, beaten and launchedwith their wooden bats, smashed in a recess game.Humiliated, frightened, risingthrough ridicule, she lies wrinkled,rumpled and tramped. She limps towards…
by Antonio Eramo I wake to clanging bells behestand rush to places I detestI pour my roaring youth awayentrapped in “no” from yesterday to know thyself is just a conI knew her once and now she’s gonethe same paths as the day beforeI walk today and feel unsure
by Aysel Atamdede A single spotlight pans across the empty stage, a pale circle of light in an otherwise blackened room. Beyond, the auditorium sits silent, the seats waiting to be filled. On the stage, a solitary dancer stands at the ready. Clad in a dress of midnight blue, she…
by daria smith giraud My beaded bob clang like percussive clear quartz crystalsagainst the humming of taxi hornsair lifting my body on small brick fencesLeaping from curbed sidewalks into the air I loved New York in the summerTimes of music, drums in the park,rays pizza, papaya dogs and orange juliusNighttime…
by Eliza Astère the skies of June are tied to my heart with a dainty silver stringeach grey cloud misty on her owngrieving the loss of the earth as it was knownwhile silver linings flourish like flowers deep in sorrowso goes my gloom, in a promise:may the hopes yesterday guide…
by DC Diamondopolous Pa decided to join the Bonus Expeditionary Force. After dropping Ma and the youngsters off at Uncle Vernon’s, he let me ride the rails with him from our home in Waynesboro, Pennsylvania, all the way to the Washington Freight Yard. Pa and thousands of other veterans were…
by Trish Annese I meet M. in Prague on a lonesome Sunday in March as I chase a lost turquoise scarf down an asphalt alley and she retrieves it, stepping from the recesses of a darkened doorway—a mistress of ceremonies stepping into the spotlight—and restoring it to me with a…
by Meri Parker Camp, near Saratoga, New York Oct. 18, 1777 My dear Frances, I finally have joyful news to share with you. After 33 days of fighting and bloodshed, General John Burgoyne has formally surrendered to our General Horatio Gates, after requesting a ceasefire five days ago following his…
by Jim Kraus Past the line of stones,watch out for the kiawe, its thorns.Then run across the hot sand to the cool water,its soft, long syllable,line after line, vast ridgesof golden sand, each grain now a unit of money.Portable real estate,the beach a mint to be mined and exchanged. Sand…
by Joseph Dehner “Be the best,” John’s father told him on his tenth birthday. But then Dad injected a correction that would burrow like a parasite into John’s memory. “What I mean is, John, be the best that you can be.” John ripped off the gift wrap and gushed, “Wow,…