I’ve got $10.59 in my wallet, and the dress cost $12.00. I promised my little girl she’d have shiny new dresses come Easter Sunday. The unchristian thought of stealing it entered my mind. But I would like to be able to visit this store in the future. I never expected my life to […]
Tag: poetry
Food Poisoning/ Beth Gordon
It was the truck stop food that did it I think. Deep fried green tomatoes once crispy now soggy with sweat and bacon drippings. I prefer fresh food but have no stomach for slaughter /skinning/ buckets of blood. Boil a chicken and pluck its feathers that smell will never leave […]
Three Poems/ Monique Kluczykowski
Imposter Syndrome They always lie about the pain— just a little discomfort. A plastic straw snakes up the vagina to the scarred cervix, closed now for renovations. The bunk beds look sad, stripped of their mattresses, their sheet forts. Boxes multiply in the garage, stars in a far-flung galaxy. The […]
During my shift at the Circle K, a young girl asks for cigarettes/ Jacob Little
showing her ID and exposing herself as fifteen. She offers to flash me and when I laugh she sobs, flees, makes me recall sprinting naked through sprinklers, choking down the Ten Pounder at The Kookout, and pillaging garages for cold beer. I remember Ggripping the door handle while skidding through suburbs to outrun the […]
The Farewell Lasso/ Ron Gibson, Jr.
The moon was the last thing waiting at the end of the line, the farewell lasso, empty. Sorrel Venus burning bright, alluding goodbye, a laser pointer for the ghost of Laika to chase instead of her tail. Only morning fog, mystery or misery grew from this fallow land. Farmers more often than not harvested the […]
Tying a Hand/ Sherry Chandler
Line the stem-butts even in your fist. Strip leaves, red as a sorrel stud, from stalk with thumb and first. With the three less nimble, squeeze leaf butts tight and if the codger hired off-the-books grabs a squeeze of your 18-year-old butt, ignore him. He’s bored and trying to get a rise. When […]
Two Poems/ Emily O’Neill
are you in the weeds my scalp stained blue my muumuu / my nonsense affectations leftover from hippie school I’m bad / at New England I said so / we started with Cambridge little brick place / manageable navigable / no shitty job yet just / men asking me to disinherit […]
Two Poems/ Andrew Fazzini
rope bed lay me down on that old rope bed let my last and longest breath pass cradled in its warp and weft…