by Megan Hodges The fields remember what we meant, not said:your laugh between the rows, the dust, the hush.Some love stays quiet long after it’s fled. We named the stars, then crawled into the shedand kissed behind the rake, so young, so rushed.The fields remember what we meant, not said….
by Michael Sandler As I approached he stood haltingly, kyphotic and aged. Perhaps he saw my chest thrust, rodding my back as if to overcome the torque of my own crooking hinge, its rust and abrade. Over appetizers and wine, disquiet ran in background mode while routine smiles and talk…