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At Sharon Towers by Gail Peck

We said goodbye to the Japanese maples, pin oaks and pines that had grown tall. We bought some new furniture for this villa in Independent Living. We learned new names that were on the doors. In two years, three spouses have...

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Clouds over Santa Fe by Gail Peck

Last night it thundered and rough rain came over this dry city. Those in charge of the Zozobra event had to set flames early— now all woes are gone. There were gloom boxes everywhere to place your written worries in. They fuel...

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Lucky Bean by Gail Peck

for Lynn My backyard neighbor in New Orleans invited us to St. Joseph’s Feast in someone’s home. The altar in honor of the saint was laden with candles and food—pasta. fish, fig cookies, fruit, bread shaped like crosses and saws...

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I Think of Ginny by Gail Peck

Who keeps all the shades down in her cottage, at this retirement center, the black car covered in dust and pollen. When was it last moved? I know she smokes because I saw an ash tray when I took her some flowers. That must be...

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Old Women, Sweeping by Gail Peck

They are deep in thought, as they bend over brooms clearing corners and floors. Some have a tune in their head, some reflect on sorrow while others seem lost in this ancient chore. Hair now gray, stooped shoulders, bones that...

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Mr. Gleason by Cyndi Cresswell Cook

“Cut it out!” Sam Cooperman protested as Mark Withers reached across the aisle to extricate a tan notebook from under Sam’s arm. Mark pulled it in spurts. Sam was gradually conceding as the notebook was slipping out from under...

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Puzzle by Marianne Lyon

My whole dazed life I implored begged wailed for saints ecstatic gurus to awaken rescue instruct how to live teach me to write a psalm that knits pain into comfort shawl draft a map endow guide me from dark chasm walk me into...

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Applaud by Marianne Lyon

This dawn I applaud I applaud sun’s rising warming my hair inviting my shadow to make her entrance for one more saunter on this blessed blue marble I applaud sun’s golden melody applaud the way she composes morning overture...

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Dancer by Marianne Lyon

Dearest body I do not have a mind but I embrace holy litany of inexhaustible emotions they quick-step me through tragedy passion don’t have religion a Christ but I have you my sun I waltze you and together we enkindle burning...

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Floppy Ears by Cyndi Cresswell Cook

“She accidentally killed a puppy,” my brother Keith whispered to me. “What, who?” I asked. I had just sat down at the family dinner table and was looking for the silverware. My mother usually had it at each setting. Where was...

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On the Tropic of Murder by Cameron Ramola

March 3, 2036. I finally have the time to take a vacation. Or, more accurately, the police chief told me that I had to take the time. He had decided that he was tired of finding me in the coroner’s office, especially since there...

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2018 Top Ten Award

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