-
The Good Ending
by Gabriela V. Everett You never failed. You never told those secrets. The night with the whiskey and carnever happened.The mail-order brides all ended up happy. Your rival gave you roses and said,“I’ve always loved you, you know.” The nightmares stopped. You forgave yourself, the one who lives in the timeline next door,and she cried:thank…
-
Alone
by Lily Tierney Debbie sat alone at a table in an empty restaurant. She ordered a tuna sandwich and a cup of coffee. The waitress was heading in her direction with it. Her order was placed in front of her, and the waitress said enjoy. Debbie thought that was kind of funny in a sad…
-
Sirens
by Michael Steffen The woman you wake to with sudden intensityis certain you’re guilty of something,but she’s not sure what—your dream already folded its tent,though, still, you taste some salty desire.There are spaces in a marriageno number of long-stemmed roses can fill,where trust is a tactic, tenderness a tease, the sex—a little too much like…
-
After Hours
by RC deWinter sing me a new songin the key of longingfiltered through the shadowsof everything you ever wished fori promise not to laughor be dismissivei recognize the colorof the those shadowsmelancholy’s hazy haloloneliness in almost midnight bluei too am a dreamerwith my own songa wisheron the gentle evening starthere’s music in your voicewisdom in…
-
grazing
by RC deWinter grazingthere’s a slyness in the changeable lightof winterthe morning sun often nothing but a tease slain by snowcloudsblowing infrom the southeast blanketing the sky with grey wooldamp heavywith its burden of moisture that will be transformed intotiny starsnot a twin among them falling in a baptism of frigid kissesbriefly burningany skin exposed…
-
The Geometry of Telephone Poles
by Yuna Kang I remember him like the last of dewdrops before it storms out, sunny, the morning vestiges of blistering light. And of course he is not really like that. I remember him when it was the last time we went up to Tahoe in late spring to see the last of the winter…
-
Second Hand
by Daniela Esposito I was given a new pair of hands because mine were no good. They came in two colours, gold and space grey. I opted for space grey, somehow gold seemed to be setting myself up for failure. They were factory made and pretty decent although the delivery man dropped them on their…
-
Renoir, Apprentice
a golden shovel after Wendy Xu’s tiny palace by Danielle Page breathe into me allthat you once knew, ofpottery and porcelain, thisbrush stroke and this line takesits shape just so, master place-ment of figures and marvel, inside,at the marbling of hues on skin, adetail lost on ceramic, how mysteriousthe vibration of each color tinyappears on…
-
Not
I cannot write/ Do you understand what I’m saying?/ I cannot bear to write/ Is today/ Is my wife/ Dead and gone?/ Yes, she is…/ Marc Isaac Potter does not have a dog named Wilbur
-
From Shark This Ease
A.J. Huffman is a poet and freelance writer in Daytona Beach, Florida. She has published 27 collections and chapbooks of poetry. In addition, she has published her work in numerous national and international literary journals. She is currently the editor for Kind of a Hurricane Press literary journals.