By Olivia L. Casey My scales too heavy now for me to rise.Scales jabbed tightly in my many achesBraided up in agony, I lie. I lift a wing and loose a weakened cryFor I have found a body too weak to wakeThe heavy scales I carry at sunrise. Anxious eyes…
by G.W. Adamson Caitlyn stood in the living room of her childhood home as if she expected to hear a sound or see someone enter. A yellowed newspaper lay on the dust-covered coffee table. Opening the living room curtains brought light and more dust floating in every direction. It appeared…
by Catharine Lucas I move a vase from mantel to table; its cool weight clings to my hands. I practice seeing things in unfamiliar places—or nowhere at all. Is this one you’ll take away? I empty cupboards, six cans of chicken broth. Should probably keep these; might cook myself the…