Ken Craft
The dog chewed the leather bookmark
you made me last Christmas.
I left it on the floor while reading that
book about diet and pain you bought,
as if all this can be laid at the feet
Read MoreHolly Allen
We pile onto the creaking couch,
its skin splitting,
its legs moaning,
like young chicks in a feathered pile,
Read MoreIan Von Fange
Down forty yards of slow-sloping hill with his long thin pole
bobbing, curved taut with the line, he finally reaches the lake and sets
his chair and cracks a beer and waits.
Read MoreV. Joshua Adams
Lacy, leafless Chinese elms
canopy a man in brown.
Public housing trailers peel
but the home for sex offenders
Read MoreCatherine Hobbs
Flakefloconflakefloconflakeflocon. Like a mare’s tail... [Rattle. Clack!] ...then a wing brushing the pane. The snow deepens (now even deeper) in the street below me. On the sidewalk, a transport driver is trying to push my neighbour in her wheelchair from his minivan to her front door. He slips. I worry for a moment but then I see her husband coming out to help.
Read MoreJudith Skillman
Carried from one bed to the next,
deposited beneath covers, expected
to sleep, hounded and scorned
Read MoreReshmi Hebbar
Swami Sukathaya, the holy man and lecturer at the Hindu temple summer camp, lived only fifteen minutes from Pallavi Reddy’s home in Monroeville. Every time he was invited to come for dinner, their Amma would spin slowly out from her tightly wound spool of daily concerns--their homework, their intake of fruit, their teeth and nail grooming. Ravi, stop the bathrooms--go and dust the blinds! Arjun, change the trash quickly! Pallavi, finish chopping the potatoes! Pallavi and her siblings would pound around the house in loud and whiny protest.
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