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 decades deceased, yet the mesothelioma remains, robbing the former workers and their progeny of health and life. Breathing the air in … Continue reading Killed Steel
by Amanda Pendley there are envelope poemsfistfuls of you in my handsblown away only half on purposeand half by the wind held in and let out likea child’s emission of defeat from not beingable to hold their breath any longer I stand emptybreathlesshands limp in a reflected pool of surrenderbefore the scream comesthe scurryingthe nails … Continue reading 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 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 forgive my husband when he threw me over his shoulder to get me to the hospital, where I locked myself … Continue reading Connie Girl
by Kashiana Singh After the news article that states the Sacklers are one of America’s richest families thanks to OxyContin. I am vigilant, awareof the toxins that willmeet me at the otherside, of overdosepain relief, diagnosisuncertain, symptomsidiopathic I am vigilant, awareof a mold, ensnaringmy crumblingcrumbling spinenow a hollowvestibule unspokenbrittle anger, whendispensed will ravageinto white sediment, let’s … Continue reading Case Solved
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 was massaged by reiki masters and prophesized by shamans and priests. I went vegan and munched on leafy greens. I … Continue reading Rage
To remind you how long before whitebecomes invisible –you fold this dish clothover and over as if each splash is wiped with a cry making roomthe way an old love song turns the worldstill from inside, lowers it into this sink though you reach down for the armthat was everything –it’s a ritualwhere after every … Continue reading Poem by Simon Perchik
by Vera Armstead I’m tired of watching those old movies with teenagers drinking in a cemetery atmidnight before Halloween. It’s not interesting for zombies to pop out of graves orspirits to fill the air, silencing the squeals of the cheerleaders. How am Isupposed to feel empathy for jocks that bully nerds during school then go … Continue reading Don’t Be Scared of Graveyards
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 why is a group of them called a wake? I hear them first, then look out my window to see … Continue reading Grapefruit Vultures
by Philip Wendt I can tell you everything about the plane and the passengers, except for their names. We were never formally introduced and never will be, but I know them. I can describe them all right down to the color of their socks. I know their seat numbers, what they were drinking, and what … Continue reading Maydays
by Jack Wildern As a child I was always trying to escape. I asked my brother to tie me up just so that I could wriggle free. As a teenager I broke curfews, wondering what it was that awaited in hours hidden to me by my parents. Never wanting to fit in, always looking for … Continue reading Ghost
Dream Noir 