Smoke rolls in reverse back under the hood, the windshield un-shatters, glass pulling around the branch as it exits the car.
October 2001 by Maranda Greenwood
Growing Pains by Susi Lopera
This piece was selected by our guest editor, Joe Russo.
The keratin scythe from my toe pressed against the phone, I called you. Told you I added water from my eyes to the squash soup I made last week.
After Receiving My First Valentine’s Rose from a Blue-Uniformed Honda Rep by Susi Lopera
This piece was selected by our guest editor, Joe Russo.
“The mirror warps my face as I stroke the lipstick trace left by Mom’s kiss on my cheek. Its shade matches the rose I tuck behind my ear. The rose’s ribbon, blue and festooned with Honda logos, I tie as a headband around my hair.”
In Keeping by Carrie Bond
This piece was selected by our guest editor, Joe Russo.
Continue reading “In Keeping by Carrie Bond”
“I feel it now—your face wreathed in pink flowers on a shelf, shadow of my boy on the sand.”
Cognition by Whitney Walters
This poem was selected by our guest editor, Joe Russo.
“You are not oblivious, the silent half-moon gap of your lips is more persuasive
than any words you could possibly utter.” Continue reading “Cognition by Whitney Walters”
The Thing That Would Make Her Happy by Rodd Whelpley
This poem was selected by our guest editor, Joe Russo.
You know the thing that would make her happy is if you would use a word from the chart posted on her office wall. You see it when you look away from the perfect lipstick of her social work smile or her eyes that, pupil-to-pupil, pin to yours while she waits the silent prelude of your answer.
Continue reading “The Thing That Would Make Her Happy by Rodd Whelpley”
Eulogy For A Bird by Cheyenne McIntosh
This poem was selected by our guest editor, Joe Russo.
“Later, I will say this was omen: how the black feathers looked scant, like scars on my windshield, how those dirty bones fell limp, so easily discarded — like there was never breath in them to start.”
boys in a room by jelal huyler
“to lay my tongue/ against his most warm cheek/ to hear the sounds of
his always blushing/ my endlessly aware of the temperature of his skin”
On first devising paper by Tamsin Blaxter
“The skin is the body’s weightiest organ
like the crucifix on the church wall
bows and sags it, bloating it and stretchmarks
striate the plaster.”
Continue reading “On first devising paper by Tamsin Blaxter”
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