Poetry

by H. Tucker Rosebrock But she's been gone since that sundae... Since that sundae

He broke his own reflection until there was nothing left to break,

Suburbs are blurbs In city-blips and trends.

by Kristina Bicher They chase each other through Bach —she climbs stairs, races up, now tumbles, spills limbs. He bends at the knee, the breeze

by Jeremiah Driver Had a moth seeking shelter found moisture in the dark?

by John Findura Most shark attacks occur ten feet from shore

by Christopher Soto that it is harder to kill something with an identity

by Jill Rosenthal “Too much water” someone said, Because enormous trees don’t just give up And tip over in the night.

by Lucia Stacey My uncle lost his virginity on a merry-go-round at the fair near Pinner Road,

by Lucilena Williams There you are fishing pole tipped over a shoulder, fishing pole in the water, fish on the pole. The blue cliffs, the...

by Alysia Nicole Harris Now, Lithuania, before, Elizabeth New Jersey, before, Rome, My dreams know where you’ll go. You’re not dead, you’re just married. But...

by Marcella Yakalis My father’s heart loves the same way mine does, with slowness, from the deepest corners.