by Cynthia Roby Faltered Footwear Deflated and dusty soles, desert-dry tongue, aglets in a state of postmortem rigidity, eyelets ringed in jaundice-yellow. Our walks, our past, now in permanent cessation. The miles we traveled, the combing through, the crushing of, autumn leaves. From beneath the table you spied me sway,…
by Christy Bailes A Sonnet to Shakespeare If I be your mistress, hand me the sun; let my red lips leave a kiss on your skin. If I be snow, touch my sweet cherry breasts, crisp delicacies for you to taste. If wires be rough on your scratchy face; let…
By Mary Kendig I’ve been an editor now for more years than I’d like to admit, and I believe I’m pretty good at it. I’m pretty good at it, I feel, because I am detail oriented by nature. Some people, especially those who don’t really comprehend how important it is…
By Daisy Paltrow I sit on the oversized chair of execution that I’ve become accustomed to. Each day I wait in wonder for the moment it will all be over. My hands clasp the edge of the arms that hold the imprint of my shape; At once, the iron rings…