by Carol Casey The path is trodden, dusty, level.You know it will take youwhere many have gone. Step off—tangles of brambles,sometimes with blackberries,more often with little clawsthat catch on clothes and skin;and tortuous tree roots—inconvenient, sacred data unearthed—subterranean snakelets somehowsifted into snarls for feet to catch.There are stems that twine…
by Destiny Cook They say that with hard work, just that. And dedication. We can escape this prison, this trap called desperation. The one we’re all broke in, Struggling. You know, except that one percent. We can fight until we die but it won’t make a difference. Uncle Sam pretends…
by Laura Grace Weldon Air is soft here fluffed silk against skin, each seam lying just so. Here the heft of a Yale ring, shoes that must be Italian, a wristwatch pricier than two years of her wages. Frayed cuffs turned under a decades-old shirt, cheap even when new, mark…