by Justin Alcalá There’s something about a train that calms me even on this glum Halloween night. I remember when my childhood revolved around the holiday. Unspoken magic once wove its way into creating costumes and decorating. But the wonder is gone, pilfered by adult obligations. Today, when I feel all alone on this train, […]
by Anthony J. Mohr I. The object of the game is to conquer the world by occupying every territory on the board, thus eliminating all your opponents. —Rules of Play for Risk, Parker Brothers’ Continental Game I cringed with my soldiers in Australia. There was only one way in and one way out— through Indonesia.
by Michael Shawyer The underground train rocked and my cello case toppled towards Lonely Lennie from Leamington Spa. “If that hits me I’ll sue for PTSV.” PTSV? What was he? Special forces? I’d never met Lonely Lennie before and profoundly hoped this would be the only time. I needed a cushion. Not to sit on.
by Linda Maria The last leaf of autumn clings, a trembling scarlet against November’s gray. Tomorrow, thewind will take it too—this final punctuation mark in the year’s slow exhalation. Petals forgettheir names first. The rose abandons its red, the violet its purple, until both become the sametranslucent brown. Even the sky, that relentless optimist, surrenders
by Susann Cokal When my mother died, my grandmother told me it was the saddest thing imaginable, a child dying before the parent. They had had a difficult relationship, but of course a mother must grieve the loss of her daughter. I took a spoonful of the ashes to Denmark, where Mormor lived and
by Yuan Changming 心房: heart house for a soul to dwell in心扉: heart door always ready to be opened心鼓: heart drum to be beaten rhythmically心匣: heart case where to store one’s feelings心镜: heart mirror to reflect one’s inner self心田: heart field in which to grow the seeds of hope心原: heart wildland for the will to
12 Heart Metaphors: a Chinglish Poem in Collocations Read More »
by Margaret Kathryn Warren she conjures a collage of living tattoos: beetles creeptoward knees. a toad smirks, looking at a can of soupshaped like a pack of cigarettes. a mushroompatch dances in purple above her elbow. Muse isn’t happywith the fox on her breast. though it winks, its feetwrinkle at the ankles. the fur smudges,but
Muse invites me inside to watch her ink her own skin Read More »
by Michael Baldwin Grief entered my earlike fingernails clawingat the blackboard of my being Grief found your holein my souland set to chewing its edges Grief smelt of burntbeans boiled drywhen I returned from hospice Grief looked at mein the mirrorand saw you here beside me Grief came to mein a dream of youreaching unreachably
by John Dorroh Please understand that I know what I saw: metallic dragonflies dancing like tiny ballerinas on thepicnic table, the end closest to the wormwood that spills out of the container like witch hair,silvery and brittle, begging for moisture. Mardi gras colors, scales on wings stacked like shingleson a roof. Delicate yet aggressive, their
by Melanie Figg Backstory It was the housewhere divorcing beganin earnest. Houseof silence, houseof dissolve. Thepoisoned groundreeled. One girlcleaved, one doubled-down.It’s too easy to lookback and add inwhat we knownow: his affairs, hergirl-trauma. Meanwhile,they unpackedinto smaller andsmaller spaces.And the armynext doorkept a recordof the ruining,the toxic river,their breathtakingrecklessness, the yardwrecked with recklessdisregard. Despite,that girl got
Backstory, First Memory (Eve to Lilith) Read More »