Poetry
by Dannye Romine Powell.
“You come back, / bent over my things / like a collector, hunched, / touching, wanting to lay claim / to everything.”
by Monique Ferrell.
“perhaps there should be another word for depression / we’ve become too accustomed to the sound…”
by Nicholas Yingling.
“You know / drowning is as much a predicament of time / as water.”
by Subhaga Crystal Bacon.
“Cancer came and took a lung, / then came and took the rest / of him. And I wasn’t there…”
by Birch Rosen.
“You do not have to stagger around the house, / unaided and weak, / as the meds wear off or kick in.”
by Cynthia Parker-Ohene.
“The macabre moon / Once lunged at me / It hisses red / Hangs voyeuristically / Wants me to stand in its balkanized light.”
by Caroline Harper New.
“Love, / from Germanic lufu, is intestinal and milky / like undug onions squeezed from mothers.”
by Martha Silano.
“Thinking of you as I pick up flecks of oats from the kitchen floor, / put them back in the container. You know, the five-second rule.”
by Sandra Giedeman.
“We watch the gardener arc the hose / carelessly washing away the work / of mud sparrows, hornets and wasps.”