by Nancy Machlis Rechtman He told me that my eyesWere stars twinkling in the nightAnd when he kissed me he murmuredThat my lips were the sweet petals of roses. My heart became the flutterOf birds’ wings soaring through the treesAnd his wordsWere the silky balm on my wounded soul. “Your…
by Isabel Brome Gaddis I haven’t lived in this little room for long but it’s already filled with my stuff the way an hourglass fills with sand. I wonder which things will still be with me when I die, and who will be left to decide what is a keepsake…
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…