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 April Garcia Could fear be the invisible culprit hiding— like a Copperhead in dead leaves —waiting, to poison me before ink meets paper? Even now, it slithers unseen— though the recesses of this busy mind.
by C.Cimmone Cats made my mother’s skin crawl – at least that’s what she said, anyway. She knew my father welcomed them into our backyard to drag away the fish heads that fell from the fat nails along the Pecan tree after his trips to the river. My mother would…