by Tahseen Béa “This is where I feel it.” Layla said to her husband of two years. “Place your foot on my knee.” He said. Layla placed her bare foot on his knee. He held his foot and touched her ankle, examining the skin and bones of her thin ankle….
Posts Tagged Southern New Hampshire University
Point of Origin: Slater’s Funeral Home
by Jay Carson sits in a valley bottom of four hills as if to be kind to its clients and the horses that were their bearers. Today’s ride is easier, but car parking is awful. There’re still too many living. We walked down, each of the times one of our…
America First
by Gil Hoy Are we a family of nations or are we not? How did this nation thing happen in the first place anyway where just about every man woman and child belongs to one like a fraternity or club Was it the different languages we spoke Or is that…
Violence Often Hides
by Bonnie Lykes The consignment shop is only a yard from vicious traffic. It doesn’t seem fair the sweetness of so many grandmothers and dear uncles suffers the exhaust. Flimsy tapestries, shaky wood shelves, a nickel cooktop, beaded wallet, a painting of post-modern ladies fanning fans all crammed up, orderless….
Insomnia
by Kalah McLaughlin We lay vertical in our bed I hear and feel his breathing we’re so close – and yet, so far He’s in another world and I, am dizzy watching him I move closer – Nose to nose I blink – two times, three He feels my eyes…
Pale Queen
by Elizabeth Shannon A solitary nail… in a wall where the wasp nest once hung, hardly a sigh from his side of the bed here only holds a remainder of lace woven from mud, a life delicately spun I observed this empty space daily my gray paper palace, our imaginary…
Not All Wishes Should Be Granted
by Aneesh Shukla Twilight was beginning to fade and the dark of night settling in. Aneesh leaned against the open doorway of the balcony, watching the sky, waiting for the stars to light his way. Behind him, he heard Maitri humming softly as she soothed their son to sleep. The…
Handiwork
by Amy Covel It was Your work You gathered The stone The metal The tools You worked For days For months For years You created Those walls Those floors Those bars And now You live In Your own Prison.
Adder-Stones
by Holly Day Every once a while, the black ribbon snakes congregate in my front yard knit themselves into a writhing mating pile, disgorge thumb-sized stones disappear back into the knee-high weeds when they’re done. It’s important to gather these stones as soon as possible or they’ll lose their magic…
An Old Man and a Basketball
by Chris Boucher Following the hollow sound of a bounding ball Into an empty early morning gym, an old man starts to shoot solo. The long dormant floor creaks and moans And the rim rattles in the echoey cold— Echoes like his old skills. He lives with that Like he…