by Amy Covel I think we all look back fondly At how naïve we were Starting that very first job. We think: “I look nothing like that ID badge I wear on my shoulder.” And it isn’t even just because You now wear your hair differently Or because you got…
by The Poet Darkling I. Loss nighttime I sleep in shadows of sweat and urine. the center square of my quilt shines yellow and wet. I never hear uncle come. I can’t. his shape blocks the moon sliver. I keep my eyes shut tight. he lifts me up and away….
by Taylor Banuchie It’s time. I’m prostrate before a glowing figure, so spectacularly bright that my eyes combust, merely ashes now in my fire-pit sockets. I reach out in supplication, and Ascendance reaches back. Our fingertips touch, and we disappear into each other. I don’t miss my eyes because I…
by The Poet Darkling It’s always been about the tea. Black. Sweet. Dollop of curdled milk. Everyone has a shop. and they know how you like it by reading your face. You take yours creamy strong sweet. In a back room, salty little fishes bubble in a cauldron over hot…
by Gloria Holsinger Sassyfras swiftly dug up the ginseng roots with well-practiced hands, then placed them in the burlap sack she always carried on such missions. All the while she kept her ears perked for unusual sounds in the forest. She pushed her wild, strawberry blonde hair away from her…
by Mary Waugaman No. I used this word on purpose. No is definite. No is final. Words are power and I choose mine carefully. Which is why I said No. But you don’t respect my No. You don’t hear my No. Whether I have allowed it too long or you…
by Kalah McLaughlin We lay vertical in our bed I hear and feel his breathing we’re so close – and yet, so far He’s in another world and I, am dizzy watching him I move closer – Nose to nose I blink – two times, three He feels my eyes…
by Elizabeth Shannon A solitary nail… in a wall where the wasp nest once hung, hardly a sigh from his side of the bed here only holds a remainder of lace woven from mud, a life delicately spun I observed this empty space daily my gray paper palace, our imaginary…
by Chris Boucher Following the hollow sound of a bounding ball Into an empty early morning gym, an old man starts to shoot solo. The long dormant floor creaks and moans And the rim rattles in the echoey cold— Echoes like his old skills. He lives with that Like he…
by Chris Boucher My pet beagle is expanding my world. One day she sniffs out rabbit pellets behind the house. Another day it’s a freshly-dug hole under the shed – my neighbor says a hedgehog did it. On yet another, she returns proudly with a deer antler in her mouth….