Crack in the Ice by John Grey

She pours the tea. The darkness pours itself through the kitchen window, surrounds the cup and the cigarette that droops from her lips. Somewhere out there is an icy lake. Somewhere out there is a crack sucking everything down – her son, even the light. Snow piles up against the door. Icicles point down from... Continue Reading →

Strange by Askold Skalsky

Is it so strange after two years, still no peace with your leaving? The horizon never moves, lying quietly in its bed of distant scars and slants. I look above the tension wires over the sky darkening at four o'clock. The wire leads somewhere, brings something into a house where the cabinets are stocked with... Continue Reading →

The Stars are Naked by John Tustin

The stars are naked And when they cast their eyes down upon me, Tossed like a million dice, I shiver in my clothes and blankets – Wishing I could be concealed. Photo by Andre Moura on Pexels.com About the Poet: John Tustin is currently suffering in exile on the island of Elba but hopes to... Continue Reading →

Change in the World by John Grey

The storm’s fireworks will be nothing by midnight. So quiet, you’ll hear the worms in the soil, the ants in the rafters. For an hour or so, the world will be in the sky, flashing and pounding, pissing down like a locker-room of giants. But later, when clouds drift away, the night becomes transparent all... Continue Reading →

Mound by Robert Beveridge

The mound had never been there before when we pulled in and parked in the field behind my house. You had never been there before, either, and you laughed, saying your life was in my hands. The mound looked so small in the middle of the field, so innocent, untouched yet by human feet. We... Continue Reading →

Invisible by Lynn White

For a long time, such a long time, invisibility has ironed out the creases in my soul, so I can hide, so I can decide if I want to be seen. I was always hiding. But now invisibility hides me even from myself. It imagines my future as it has distorted my past, separated me... Continue Reading →

Ode to Memory by Diana Raab

From the moment I rise in the morning how I remember everything— where my slippers sleep, how to get downstairs, where to find my dog and how to brew my coffee. I love to remember my first coffee in a Parisian café with grandpa at age sixteen— strong espresso and sugar cube, and how the... Continue Reading →

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