Madison Estes The Second Knife He slept with her in what was our bed, with its faded blue sheets and worn edges, and when I saw her— the face of my best friend, her eyes as wide as they were guilty— I felt the second knife in my back, and honestly, it doesn’t slide in […]
Read MoreDavid Hanlon Your Promises layed out on the table like our finest cutlery set that shimmers & glistens but is never used. David Hanlon is a Bristol-based poet who can be followed at https://twitter.com/DavidHanlon13
Read MoreSarah Paulos With No Umbrella Yes, you’re supposed to kiss your lover in the rain, but you’re supposed to kiss in a mild shower, with good lighting, while the music swells, not in an April thunderstorm when the raindrops batter you like hailstones and make you squint into the darkness to see your lover’s face. […]
Read MoreSarah Paulos In the Winter It was winter when I inchwormed my way to the very forest floor and crawled into the earth, hoping for its warmth, waiting to see if I could outlast the frost that kills the mayfly. Sarah Paulos usually uses too many semicolons in her poems.
Read MoreDevon Balwit Rubbernecker Look, look away, the feed’s grim dance, the lesser kudu, all whorled iridescence, holding me a full breath or more, while the starving polar bear, a slink of ribs and misery, catches my eye only long enough to identify it, before, unable to soothe and so sick to see, like a rubbernecker […]
Read MorePeggy Turnbull Country Boy After our long welcome-back kiss he spun away from me to paw the ground like a bull saying howdy to a matador, flapped his elbows like an Oktoberfest Chicken Dancer, stuck out his chin like a bugler at dawn, whirled back to me and grinned, “You’re smiling! You’re smiling!” all the […]
Read MoreKeith Hoerner Twin Brother, mirror of me, wewereconjoined, and though sep arated, in ways imperceptible, weremainedattached. Keith Hoerner lives, teaches, and pushes words around in St. Louis, Missouri.
Read MoreKelsey Sorge The Lonely When The Lonely grew too large, she locked it in the closet and fed it loose buttons and wads of hair raked from her hairbrush, wrapped it safe and sound in the arms of her grandmother’s old sweater so that at night, when it thought she was sleeping, it would sing […]
Read More