Poetry
by Martha Serpas.
“we steal water when we make rain, the way / everything I have is from somewhere else, / from someone else, what I am…”
by Jennifer L. Knox.
“We are afraid / of junior high school students and the nauseating things / they say among their own kind…”
by Linda Harris Dolan.
“after the pink peonies die, their heads droop, / petals begin their falling, but for days, days / the flower-heads remain mostly intact…”
by Jeanette Clough.
“I am surrounded by streets / half dark, half lit, by high rises / sheathed in metal and glass…”
by Margot Wizansky.
“I’m inside this body that doesn’t work / the way it did before, as if all my angles / were filed down.”
by Marie Kane.
“She examines what the February
sea threw and the beach caught:
shreds of jellyfish, a half-rotted
doll, garbled masses of kite string
twined around one slack, yellow
and orange kite.”
by Chelsea Krieg.
“For minutes,/ I watch his heart: ventricles contracting, / blood pumping – my other silent pulsing center.”