By Kaitlyn Pereira Who am I? I am my parents’ child. An only child, Which means I am not only their daughter But also their son. I keep my mother on the inside of the road And glare at the men who stare at her. I help my father build the bed And fix the … Continue reading Who am I?
Christmas Telescope
By Fred Donovan Somewhere between Venus and Arcturus, my daughter and I squint to seethe comet that will not returnfor 80,000 years, give or take a millennium.But the supermoon drownsthe comet’s dim light,and clouds move in to ensurethe failed viewing. “We’ll see it whenit comes back,” I joke. She is not amused.“Maybe we can catch … Continue reading Christmas Telescope
Puppy Love
By Sarah Rosenblatt My puppy is in love with each of the humansin the house.She’s also in love with the momentthat rises up, filled with its mitzvahs. It then departs like a friendwe don’t want to leave. And you see once you take love from an animal and give some back:you are making a lifelong … Continue reading Puppy Love
Evidence
By Jennifer Choi things that are already too broken to fix,& the moment you touch them,they fall apart even more—objects that crumble at the slightest pull.today, a city breaks,today, a house,today, a family,today, a mother,today, a father.in the stationery shop, Nana twinklesfrom inside her little box.the doll my mother made has tangled hair,its neck stiff … Continue reading Evidence
The Devil With A Gun
By Doug Stoiber He rode a crooked path across the plains, and started youngFifteen years old, he robbed a widow with a stolen gunHe rustled cattle, hijacked trains, kidnapped a banker’s childHe killed a missionary priest and left his church defiledThere weren’t laws enough that he could say he hadn’t brokenWith fear and anger, people … Continue reading The Devil With A Gun
Wet Work
By Robert Beveridge So many contracts,and lawyers to enforce them.Time is nothing—no, less.All that mattersis the position, the last kiss,a good scrub of the handswhen done. Surgeonsare better paid in coin,but derive less satisfaction. Robert Beveridge (he/him) makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry on unceded Mingo land (Akron, OH). He published his first poem in … Continue reading Wet Work
A Beautiful Haunting
By Brent Yergensen He sees her in everything--a mother, a wife.To give him life, she took to strife.Does he see what she did in friendship abound?For all his life he'll feel her ghost round.Who is the haunter that he later understood?She saw all things he one day could.Whatever her effort for his behalf,Was her beautiful … Continue reading A Beautiful Haunting
A Winter Poem
By James G. Piatt A haunting silence, and the emptiness of longing, pierce through the winter night mist as I sit in the library listening to voices in my mind. They are trudging through long-forgotten memories, and are mere black smudges of forgotten memories. I hear black-feathered crows cawing in the distance, complaining about the … Continue reading A Winter Poem
Blank Slate
By Christine Leoni I walk down the broken steps onto the cracked path.It leads to an irregular dirt road winding underneath a canopy of trees.The holes in the sky blind my sight momentarily and warm me from within. The tips of the pines sway sending a chill of air across my face.My cheeks flush, and … Continue reading Blank Slate
Jonathan Edwards
By Rip Underwood No death, no fracture, issued the dayour House’s joists, riven by frost,knuckled off their notches, droppedupon many a balcony’s full weight.I called it a rebuke, a mercy, for nothinghappens without a great Consent.The ecstasies came and went; foxglovefell to winter, and all the coloniesfelt of it, asking, “Pastor, what has comeupon Boston, … Continue reading Jonathan Edwards
Academy of the Heart And Mind 