by Carolyn Drake After Cathy’s death, she found me in Hendriksville. Hendriksville rots beside the Ohio River. The ‘Welcome’ sign reads Population: 5,000, but they must’ve been counting gravestones. The steel mills are two […]
Tag: death
in the end, who are we but little women fused and accumulated and ready to snap apart from the whole of ourselves like chocolate squares
by Amanda Pendley there are envelope poems fistfuls of you in my hands blown away only half on purpose and half by the wind held in and let out like a child’s emission of defeat […]
Connie Girl
by Norman Klein That’s what he called me that morning, as my eyes opened, and both of us saw the kid lying there bloody, smaller than a bird, smaller enough to flush it down, then […]
Case Solved
by Kashiana Singh After the news article that states the Sacklers are one of America’s richest families thanks to OxyContin I am vigilant, aware of the toxins that will meet me at the other side, […]
Rage
by Kate St. Germain I took any advice I could get for six months after Lila died. I meditated, I socialized. I focused on the present; I planned for the future. I was counseled, I […]
Poem by Simon Perchik
To remind you how long before white becomes invisible –you fold this dish cloth over and over as if each splash is wiped with a cry making room the way an old love song turns […]
Don’t Be Scared of Graveyards
by Vera Armstead I’m tired of watching those old movies with teenagers drinking in a cemetery at midnight before Halloween. It’s not interesting for zombies to pop out of graves or spirits to fill the […]
Grapefruit Vultures
by Hayden Rigby The day I stop loving you is the day the vultures show up. My grandfather always told me it was a myth that they circle around animals that are dying, but then […]
