By Phibby Venable An angel was perched delicately on the straight back chair in the corner, but everyone pretended not to see her. At least it appeared that way to fifteen – year old Katie, who couldn’t take her eyes off the golden wings and slim figure. “Mama, don’t you…
by Casey Dare the smooth bore, breech-loaded, single barrel shotgun bangs an answer to the whispered questions— why do they fight? why does mama cry? is he still hitting her? Why won’t someone help us? cold December night lit by lights on the evergreen trees, blues reds whites blinking…
By Gil Hoy When I was in Charlottesville studying the law. Where the vestiges of racism Were carefully hidden under a rug. Its stain absorbed by the wise, aging wood Or swept away by a black, hopeful janitor. He diligently cleaned Jefferson’s hallways and bathrooms So that one or more…