By: James Bates Even though he hadn’t left his house that day, nor had he for the more than three years since his beloved wife had passed away, here’s what Bob Anderson wrote later that night: ‘I lay under…
By: Brian Rihlmann WRONG I sit with the sun at my backand stare at my shadowits hair movesits shoulders rise and fallafter awhile the thought enters—the shadow’s not meany more than the sun is a while longerand the sun disappearsbehind…
By: J.K.Durick Spine – Xray ### Bookmark by Gavin a grandnephew once removedis gone but this gift,given I don’t remember when,remains. His name written in childish lettersand some coloring are all that’s leftof the moment – it marks his placemy…
By: Theresa C. Gaynord RED CINNABAR Discard my clothes, my glamorous spoilsand fate me before the dispossessedfar removed from my gowns of tulle andspangles. Walk me toward the peak of the mountain,strip me of my name as I watch the…
By Beatriz Cicci Ms. Maureen Campbell was proud to attest and confirm with confidence that, throughout her 72 years of life, she had only kissed whom she had ratified to be totally and completely in love with. When inquired in…
By: Don Thompson Pioneer Cemetery These tottering gravestones remainunexpectedly whiteafter all sorts of weather—unlike the bones buried here.They’re gray going black by now,blotched with off-greenlike moss on the wooden markersworn nameless years ago. ** Inflation Spendthrift wind strips the trees,scattering…
By Mark Kodama When the wrought iron gates of St. Mary’s Industrial School for Boys swung wide, George was just an unwanted reform school boy destined for oblivion. But George Herman Ruth could play baseball better than any other…
By: Stephen Faulkner I walked from where it all took place with a steady gait down a dark and humid street. Darkness enveloped me like a shroud, like a fetid blanket pulled around me, hiding me. Still her eyes found…
By: Alexis Zarco SeesawThe rustic seesawof sun bleachedblues & redssat trapped in itsbeginnings. Green wildgrass& yellow wheatgrow in betweenthe wooden seats. Childish giggles& small footstepsechoing in the empty spacemocking the young’unswho are all but grown. ### The Life I Deserve…
By: Jesse Wolfe Aubade Her brown curls heaped on the pillow,the comforter sprawled below her breasts.She fled into her magazine. For a minute, motionless, he stood.Starlings chattered in the walnut tree. * * In days they decided on a baby.It…