by Doug Van Hooser Lighten up! You’re not a funeral director. Don’t beas serious as a doctor visit, a 4 A M phone call.Quit writing poems that resonate like an obit. Tryto pull a rabbit out of a hat and smile when it’s a ferret.Be a public-address announcer, let everyone…
by Jane Finlayson Nicky peels the skin off the chicken in one slick move, like she’s undressing some squirmy little kid before it makes a getaway. “Stay put, you twisted bag of bones,” she hisses, holding the bird upright and slapping onion halves and rosemary into the cavity before wrestling…
by Cynthia Roby Boomerang was Sadie’s man, and he got his name by definition: Every time she threw the lying cheater out, she’d cry, howl, and moan, all before that need-to-satisfy ache in her groin pried her thighs apart and let her Boomer back in—until the dag-gone fool never returned….