ARMS FOR HOSTAGES BY FERRIS JONES
I don’t recall if arms were sold at all. The Colonel is the one. The one who should fall.
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KINGDOM COME BY P.S. WRIGHT
“Mama?” Krystal squeaked. Out of the corner of her eye, Krystal caught a glimpse of a shower of orange sparks falling from above and mama’s cigarette landed on the dirt path.
Read MoreGUNS WINTER 1967 BY DONALD WATERS
When everyone had assembled, Bruce led us into his bedroom. His parents weren’t home, “Take a look at this,” he said, spinning an army-issue .45-caliber pistol on his finger in the manner of an old west gunfighter. “My ‘ol man gave it to me. This thing is so powerful,” he went on; “My dad says if you shoot a man in the thumb, it will knock him to the ground.”
Read MoreTHE BLACK FOX BY BRITTANY ACKERMAN
We’ve been living in a hotel for almost two months. It’s August and hot as hell out here in Florida, a kind of hot we’ve never known.
Read MoreTIRED JEHOVAH BY DANIEL DAVID
Please! I am not responsible – all this beauty! I never presumed
to be your mother, your father, certainly not your savior.
BETWEEN BY RONALD J. PELIAS
Between now and now
is the waiting of the
clock’s second tick
HUNGER BY JACK COOPER
When a child starves in a mother’s arms
the whole world feels sick
even if we don’t want to talk about it
THE VULTURES BY JOHN N. MILLER
vultures perched
on winter’s skeleton-bare sycamores,
beaks nuzzled under brazen feathers
as they digest their scavenge
Après-midi des enfants By Richard Carl Subber
Après-midi des enfants By Richard Carl Subber The pond’s blue water, ruffling in precocious breezes, coolly boiling with the thrashing and sparkly splashes of sprites masquerading as children, all enmeshed in the gentle net of...
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