QUILTING DAY AT THE CHURCH BY JOYCE SWEENEY
from slick river stone to slick river stone
witch, harlot, heretic, sitting quietly disguised
as eight-year-old soul
survivor, stained by color
squares shoulders to face grandmother
Author: admin
TV NEWS BY GEORGE H. NORTHRUP
He listens for
the baseball scores,
closing values of the Dow,
the chance of rain.
THE FLIGHT TO THE MEKONG RIVER BY CATHY CHASE
We knew the Red Pathet Lao, communist soldiers, would be coming to kill us. To them, we were traitors. We had to leave our homeland. The only place we could go was Thailand. It was a two-week walk through the jungle, the lowlands and then across the wide Mekong River. The dark emptiness filled us all as we prepared to leave. We gathered up food, clothing, and some weapons, and strapped our bundles to our backs. Some of us carried two bundles with the others strapping on the babies and the small children.
Read MoreTHE ROSE PILLOW BY BARBARA DANIELS
I told my mother there was nothing
to forgive her for. I went on speaking
as if she could hear me
Sunset on Sunset Avenue By Kasy Long
Just beyond the sloping hill I see the brown brick home. The large yard reminds me of summer nights playing baseball, catching fireflies, and riding bikes.
Read MoreAT A CITY PARK POOL BY JONATHAN BRACKER
Chlorined water wets the sunlit tiles
Where classmates frolic
YOGA IN THE GAZEBO BY JEANNE JULIAN
The teacher says,
“Observe the thought. Then let it float away,”
TRIBULATIONS BY SUSAN MORRIS
It takes work to cloak my soul in glory.
It takes time to find a path for this story.
It takes heart to start when you’re full of worry.
THE CARNEVALE MASKS BY LORRAINE COMANOR
Sorting through boxes of my mother’s effects some months after her death, I stumbled upon two Carnevale masks. She must have acquired them after I’d stopped skating and left home.
Read MoreMY FATHER IN THE WALLS BY JOHN MCCLUSKEY
When he was finally about to leave and head back to his room, he thought this might be a good time to kiss his father goodbye since no one was watching. But kissing reminded him of girls, and the redheaded boy with the tender purpled cheek hated anything having to do with girls.
Read MoreNIGHT SKY-PEOPLE BY MARIANNE LYON
Some cluster close
protect their young
Some glow only
in their native tongue
BLINDMAN’S BLUFF BY JACK D. HARVEY
Paris laughs,
but this incense
has the stink
of sacrifice to come
