Who Do the Voodoo? by Deborah Guzzi
Elizabeth, Bet for short, got on the road early. She was tired by the time she pulled off the highway onto the back streets of Manchester. She thought to herself, New Hampshire…
Issue
Issue #1
Page 7 of 8
Masks by T.J. Cheverie
We all wear them, Everyday, In our places of business, And in our homes when we are Alone. Some wear the mask of the Prince and others wear the mask of the…
As She Sleeps by Eric Scott
She's sleeping on the sofa again. Her strawberry hair frosts her forehead. Strands of hair, like frayed ribbons, cover her brown eyes that seem to have grown darker with age. Tracks of…
First Reunion by Daniel Shirley
The spark jumped the gap between our fingertips in the moment before they touched for the very first time. It was so quick, I didn’t know if it was real or if…
Entropy by Daniel Shirley
He stares into the mirror envisioning crystal skin smooth, unblemished flawless. His gaze is hard, eyes narrowed, as he presses fingers into the flesh of his cheeks, pulling the fabric under his…
Surrender: A Poem about Violence by Daniel Shirley
“You’re quiet,” she says, leaving her question implicit. unasked. assumed. Yes, I am quiet. Because to speak is to surrender. To take my most intimate thoughts, those quietly polished gems and the…
We Were Forced Into It Against Our Will by Daniel Shirley
We buried him in the driveway, which, in hindsight, may not have been the brightest idea. But there was no other. We didn’t realize how long it would take to work through…
Cold Oven by Gloria Keeley
tires on gravel the couple drives away embarking on their travels hiding behind a rose bush I leave a rose at their door I take over their house I sleep in their…
The North Carolina Farm Poem by Gloria Keeley
My North Carolina farm was a life then. Everything creek-easy and slow. I’d listen on it the buzz of a natural day before the autos cranked up for their egg deliveries and…
The Bees Are Gone by Gloria Keeley
the logs of river divers swim the deep spring a house on the shore reveals stitch work of drawn drapes bees spin over Africa stop the globe in mid hive land on…
Burning Down the Doll House by Gloria Keeley
In my neighborhood when I was little there were many more boys than girls. I always played with the boys, mainly because my older brother had to take me along when he…
Cecelia and Sun Tzu by Chris Palmer
A drab drizzle unwelcomed Cecelia when she woke to the first day of fifth grade. To fight back at the doom that seemed to stretch to next June, she snatched up her…
Romancing a Blank Sheet by Darlyn C. Lojero
who knows you more but the fingers that traverse the arch of your back and trace the minute soldiers on your weakening limbs? they have been searching and discovering all that is…
Follicles by Dave Gregg
My face I own it is mine all twisted in wrinkle and vein but my hair has no honor I thought it agreed “Less combing” in exchange for “Robust growth” more “blow-dry”…
Carnival by Dave Gregg
a sad story the other day a woman ate a large slice of King Cake choked on the baby baked inside not even real or ever born she was a grandmother, 94,…
Over Coat by Dave Gregg
this red jacket and it’s attitude always superior whatever generation wore it, mother, grandmother myself now my own sits and eyes it warily, judges “It will not fit,” “But it will,” I…
Of Dreams and Marriage by Jeffrey Zable
I was stationed at the top of a grassy hill next to a redwood tree. I had a gun that could only shoot one bullet at a time—to shoot another bullet one…
A Bad Message by Jeffrey Zable
I’d been giving out pennies to kids for about six months, as many I had in my pockets when they asked for them. Some days no child would ask for any; other…
Distances by Carol Hamilton
The moon is moving away from us, hitching itself ever higher by its own tuggings at our gravity. It is paling out, like your face, but so gradually, I think you are…
Dig by Carol Hamilton
In this desert dust my hands touch her hands dust to dust stone charred supper over jawbone lifted rabbit to bone bone beneath stone bone to bone