by Andi Garrison (This poem contains domestic abuse.) Maybe one dayyour bruises won’t burn my skin.Promises you left behindwon’t hurt time and time again. Maybe one dayvivid memories will fade.The only scars left herewill be the marks from my blade. Maybe one daymy reflection won’t break my heart.With every passing…
by Darcie Raridon Need for a fatherfelt like a pox.So, I buried minein a box-top-box.It’s stuffedfull of lessons,he never taught,wrapped in clotheshe never bought,and I scribbledhis obituaryon the first, andonly postcardI ever got.
by Eric Obezo The cool rushing water splashes and swirls, playfully dancing around my skin. All of the dirt I carry flushes away, dribbling downstream, revitalizing my body. This pure elixir showers my matted hair, releasing the clumps of grime…
by Kelly Cofske (This story contains domestic violence.) As Timmy headed down the drive toward home, he smelled fresh-baked gingerbread in the air. He felt warm inside that Mom made his favorite after-school snack on such a day. Rounding the corner of the house, he headed for the back garden…
by Julie Worsham (This poem contains sexual abuse and self-harm.) Man, I don’t wanna go to this class todayThe teacher’s always talkin’ bout how I need to apply myselfI guess she don’t understand how badly I want to fade awayJust curl up in my bed, cover my head, and forget…
by Brian Reickert The sun flicked offlike it was on a switch,and the darknessand the cold were instantand absolute. No one expected it to happenlike that, not one.An event utterly without precedentor warning. Every law and book, everyprophecy and prayer,every theory and model, alloverturned and swept away, and no one…
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 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 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 Cathy Bown There in the passenger seat of my uncle’s old red Ford pickup was where the truth finally hit me. As I gazed out the dirty window at the golden country around me, I could see tall oak trees bursting with autumn foliage just waiting to return to…