Poetry

by Rachel Contreni Flynn.
“My sister left for a few weeks, and the lid lifted / off the stock pot. The house filled with the possibility / of eating bread…”

by Winshen Liu.
“For you, that week, we bought peaches like eggs: / twelve in a box, more than we’d had in years: // pink-skinned, white-fleshed…”

by Olivia Olson.
“Shy in my shorts, I pull my body big / and slow through the forest.”

by Paul Howe.
“For a moment, it lays a white sheet over / the disfigured body of this conflict.”

by Cynthia Marie Hoffman.
“I don’t know what will / happen, but let’s not rush home to the / leaking faucet just yet, the ants / hauling cat food behind the walls.”

by Alene Terzian-Zeitounian.
“If I had a time machine, I would tell / you the suffering isn’t worth the fame”

by Michele Bombardier.
“I pull up a chair, lower the bedrails. / He bats at my hand. When he finds it, he quiets, / his hand a vice on mine.”

by Kai Coggin.
“make a whole ecosystem under my touch / huddle the howling fox the heavy elephant…”

by Kai Coggin.
“I remove the day, strip myself / of the expectations and the pain, / the way my soul strives and my flesh endures…”