by Cat Dixon | Sep 25, 2022 | Issue #5, Poetry
1.Did you hear the horse thunder and taste the dustin your cabin? The wild hooves kicked up a stormlast night. The hours passed as I reread your letter,licked the envelope flap you sealed, traced your name, and wondered if you were reading my poems.Nothing fills...
by Claire Heinzerling | Sep 25, 2022 | Issue #5, Poetry
the DJ wants us to do the cha cha slide.the DJ wants our claps our stomps our“cha cha real smooth”—the DJasks us to give breath to death andbreathe seething into laughter and standa couple feet apart on the laminatedance floor and turn our insides intoour outsides....
by Merri Andrew | Sep 25, 2022 | Issue #5, Poetry
He tucks the $5 into his sockand looks up at my babysays When my son was a babyI used to sit up all nightto make sure he was breathing WHERE IS HE NOW?I am screamingin my headWHERE IS HE NOW?he is also screamingin his headmaybe With practice we canlisten past the...
by Merri Andrew | Sep 25, 2022 | Issue #5, Poetry
My plan for marriagewas couragethe way a planelands by sinkingthen with a rush of strengthflexes to kiss the tarmacas an equal a drama soon forgottenas we wait to seewhose luggage is whoselooping round the lucky horseshoemagnet pull of what will emergeand what must be...
by Claudine Guertin-Ceric | Sep 25, 2022 | Fiction, Issue #5
She’d only meant to ride the elevator down to collect the mail. Now she was trapped in it. Contained by sleek, unclimbable metal walls, a round chrome rail that raced around the space to nowhere, a dark touchscreen panel of buttonless buttons, and underneath her, the...
by Joseph M. Gant | Sep 25, 2022 | Issue #5, Poetry
New Format paperback and needledisccherished media–bone dust and broken saucers Cavernous dentist cut by silvered glassancient mouth of rot;pulls the roots from memory Joseph M Gant is a New Jersey born open source software enthusiast, data hoarder, technical...
