Poetry
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…”
by Jan Steckel.
“They took two buses to get there. / Rosalia wouldn’t speak, just cradled the little suit / until Ruben gently took it away from her.”
by Lindsay Stuart Hill.
“She wondered what would happen / to her actual face. Would it fade away? Or would it / stay put, like a person you can never get rid of…”
by Kailey Tedesco.
“My mother’s old kimono cradles me / so that I can become a fish, wet with / water I can drape about my shoulders.”
by Diana Tokaji.
“Make for the moment / the moon in its place / And lie quickly beneath to remember.”
by Jen Karetnick.
“All that ink on your skin! / bartenders would marvel. / Cosmos at my elbow…”
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.”