Author: admin

Lemon by Robin Littell

It was her fourth birthday without Ted, and she was getting better at forgetting him. She planned not to pick up. She planned to be busy. The three previous conversations had gone like this: “I got you a present. It’s something...

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The Glass, Martha by Ethan Tinkler

It hadn’t stopped raining since Roger and Martha moved into the new house. Days. Weeks. It didn’t matter in the endless dark. Pans in the attic overflowed into the insulation and ceilings. Brown-ringed stains blossomed on the...

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A Corvid Villanelle by Deborah Ketai

The third murder of crows this morning, silhouettes flat black against the sky, caws their old men’s argument outside my screen, stacking in the maples, pecking for position. I watch with no idea why this third murder of crows...

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Out of joint by Deborah Ketai

Not the foundation, but foundational, who’d have thought they’d be the first to go? Tendons ruptured, the result of congenitally flat feet, which make communion with the ground, closer than most people enjoy, not even space to...

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What We Wore to the Dance by Deborah Ketai

We rose from the promenade. The first silk dappled. By boxed freight, we made our way in the world practically weightless, fabric tormenting the desires of men and women alike for smooth and youth. I remember an almost sheer...

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The Frugal Cook by Lois Marie Harrod

Her art: to be consumed. Or unconsumed, transfigured. What’s cast aside became cornerstone: corn—steamed then creamed, curried and casseroled— made its rakish progress through meadows of wild sage and chicory to consummation....

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Galileo’s Index by Lois Marie Harrod

Not what you think, a list of stars and weights, but his finger in a glass egg at the Museum of Science and Industry in Padua, that city which Shakespeare singled out like a nun. The index raised as it might have been in life...

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What Ideas Feel Like by John O’Dell

Poems are what ideas feel like. Karl Shapiro Some blister the mind like an endless afternoon of August heat, others own the chaste clarity of winter sunsets distilled through naked birch. Some, tense as crossbows in siege, fly...

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