by Chris Litsey My outlines were drawn in with horse hoovesAnd fleur-de-lis stabbings, tinging the linesWith a ruddy, rusty coloring that reminds meOf my blurred, wavy reflection of the wide,Wild river I called home, but the effectsOf the Commonwealth never seeped pastThe bold lines that could be made outFrom farther…
by Anna Dodson A part of me thinks I loved you mostthat summer. Amid sickness and in health,we took the furthest parking spot,then plundered empty grocery aisles. Each with our own mini-shopping cartto parallel-play in hoodies and shorts,we blocked an entire row. You said,“Aren’t we being so domestic?” You stood…
by Thomas Weedman You see the sea of mourners bundled in black fill the small Mission Basilica for the evening wake. Extended family and familiar faces, A to Zed, flow from the past like shivery spindrift. You pray not all of them come though, not him. Not again. Please, not…