Two Poems Alison Moncrieff Y rustine, the undersqueak of your carriage i seen your bed rustin’ in the yard milkweed growing all up in its frame parts of you rise up between hunks of the old hiway rain tools the weedpath in wishbones, sugar split your selves crazy, that’s what you did same way…
Girlhood Liz N. Clift Back when our bodies were just bodies, we wore swimsuits and skipped through sprinklers that created rainbows against every afternoon’s gathering thunderstorm. We caught gold skippers with the red-handled butterfly net when they landed on my mother’s zinnias and four-o-clocks, and the Carolina clay slicked beneath our soles, turned our feet…
Herodotus at Home Andrea Moorhead Withering shield the grass incinerated, and I am sitting at the window watching, the sweep of burning air, the black insistence whenever, withering shield that covers no part of the day, dispenses hour after hour, falling particles, the same tenacious intrusion, green passes, amber and red predominate, and the mind…
Saga of the Grief Journal Merridawn Duckler I. I drew an angry, enraged face in the grief journal then covered it up with a kind face then covered them both with the kind of face that pretends it is not angry and enraged. I wrote on every line of the grief journal but I left…
a perfect message Michael Rerick ———–a perfect message in poplar bark bands code a tap tap tap blackout ———–a perfect cover up ———–taped in leaves tap polar winds trapped ———–in tree colors or a sky cassette playing limbs gagged and shivering nicely perfectly carved ———–initials tap tap tap inscribe a future paper we read as…
