Forked Roads by John Francis Istel
“How many candles do you see? Mother? How many? Can you see how many? Sit up.“
Waking by Karin C. Davidson
“‘Sleep, sleep, sleep,’ my mother says. But I cannot help thinking about waking the next morning.”
The Box by Greg Bottoms
“Danny Glover—a fourteen-year-old white kid from Smithfield, Virginia, not the actor from…”
Swept by Emily Vizzo
“Startling, this body-bump of asterisks finding its way…“
Sea Lion by Emily Vizzo
“The stink of him came to me first, a salty hit of kelp…“
Mario’s Grocery Has No Cameras by Chris Mink
“In lane twelve a young mother wearing…“
During the Tornado, I’m Thinking of Stars by Sara Henning
“They’re calling them sisters, funnels grafted…“
The Dead Wait on the Living to Go on Living by Kim Garcia
“The chairs wide-mouthed and silent in each others’ presence…“
Mountain Aubade by Kim Garcia
“Inside a blue-cupped palm, yellow tipped mountain, wild dogwood, pine…“
Mending by Ruth Foley
“For once, I am not thinking of a place…”
Doubt is the angel of our time by Ruth Foley
“Of any time, I’d wager—any movement…“
Cleansing Flights by Ruth Foley
“The temporary unfurling of the rhododendron…“
Pitcher by Will Cordeiro
“I’m such a flirt…“
Wild Horse / Wild Deer by John Casteen
“Deep beneath the night, its lidded vault of stars…”
Figure by John Casteen
“As in, cuts an elegant…”
I Saw You by JC Bouchard
“I saw you on the roundabout…”
Startling, this body-bump of asterisks finding its way.
My fingers tapping & unclenching.
Finding something beautiful, like a marble or a map of hours.
Sand draining its throat down a glass funnel.
God breathing in my ear, stirring its bronze hairs.
I had found the unlocked fence.
I was carried across the backs of beaded prayers.
Twined hands & patterned feet.
The way you said I might jump.
The way my feet found the toppled redwood.
Its swollen heart & my vibrato face.
The way a river took me in its arms, passed me from stone to stone.
How I tried to love the slick green moss.
The pine wheel that turned & trampled me.
The way you found me there.
You could have been anyone.
The way you took my elbow with your river-hands.
The way you brushed among my naked body.
The way I never said no.
How easily the forest stepped over itself, a twiggy ballerina w/ scabbed knees & halo of fur.
How I lifted my skin from its webs.
The crimped legs of feasting insects. The way
I drew God with shaking fingers, all crooked lines & hemispheres.
How the mild day shone.
How easily I laid myself down among the shaggy river stones.
How they called my name, how they bit my face w/ love.