By: T. R. Bates “My hands are warm,But my knuckles are cold,” Barbara announces.I tell her it’s because there’s no blood in your knuckles.This is an example of our conversation these days.Her world has shrunk and getting smaller.Observations are minutely…
By: Shelby Stephenson SCAG BALLET My son covers his face streaking with grunge.He edges the leaning pole with the Scag.The lime and vines fall good and hard with sludgewhen he hits the clean path, a surprise packed into stretches of…
By: Chandra Shekhar Dubey The day I was born terror had struck the city covered with charred smokefoul smell of roasted flesh and forms.Newly wedded couples shrunk in armsnot in ecstasy of joy but fear of terror. Bathing old man…
By: Richard LeDue Middle Class Role Model Singing in the kitchenalong again.Hands have no choicebut to smell of dirty dishes.Five day old macaronimore stubbornthan I’ll ever be,while a bluetooth speaker(a Christmas gift)betrays my burden,overflowing garbage canproves my privilege,and the plastic…
By: Francis Fernandes Grade IV Math Homework I’m trying to watch the hockey game,but my daughter the Roman numeral girl,impetuous, bold, but still in needof her own fan base, changes X’s, V’sand C’s and matchstick linesinto the more familiar single-digit…
By: Hardeep Sabharwal The text is just floating in the phone,“Are you angry!”The phrase, ‘I know what you have felt’.Is more an irony and less an assumption,And the reply, ‘No’But I hate you as much as I love you,Is not…
By: John Best Summer nights in Trestavere, Death andTime enjoy an espresso together.Why not? They can’t hurt each other. But thatnight, down one street twisted, now a secondstreet dank, then a third so narrow, in ahouse whose door is dark…
By: J. K. Durick Empty What happens in a tourist town when there are no tourist left.The restaurants and tour boats are empty or almost,there are a few locals and families to help keep upappearances, but empty is what empty…
By: Linda Imbler The Most Beautiful Life The only thing needed to improve the world: To read and reread the book of love,to remember the most beautiful things we do,and how we do them in the most beautiful way. Our…
By: Shruti Mishra The Age of Experience I stepped in utter innocenceThere I stumbled with mere arroganceI sighed at my presenceI was unaware of reverence I learned these peculiarities with experienceI gained this knowledge of enhancementWorld has become disillusioned of…