by Alison Lowery

Poem removed at author’s request.

by Sonya Taaffe

He slips from the tide as though out of bed
some lazy lover’s afternoon before he drowned—
sheets of foam half-folded across his wave-worked
thigh, up on one elbow in the backflow, mirror-blue
and shadows wash underneath his sun-strike smile
that dazzles and disappears, eddied with weed.
For its glint, I would not kneel in the waves
that idle around my ankles like fingers lightly
closed; I would not pillow my cheek on … Read entire article »

by Patricia Russo

The boy was trashed, or worse. Drunk, stoned, or mentally challenged—the only three options. A double whammy was not impossible, however, nor even a triple one. The kid wore grimy wind pants and a flannel shirt with the sleeves torn off; he crouched in the stairwell, his back against the wall, hugging something to his chest, crooning to it. There was no cup or upturned cap by his feet, … Read entire article »

by Rebecca W. Day

When I speak, the wages of my foolish act of kindness choke me; they swell my throat and burst from my mouth in faceted agony. At first, only diamonds and pearls, but as time passed, my blessings multiplied: emeralds and rubies and sapphires, every precious stone spewing forth from my gullet with the barest whisper. Oh, I long for golden silence.

I was blessed and my sister cursed, but her curse is … Read entire article »

by Greer Woodward

She watched as he approached the castle gate, weary from another failed return to Camelot.

At dusk she would call for the sorceress. They would take the silken cap, and chant old words and sing old rhymes, until the cap was bright as golden hair and the sewn-in pearls were the circlet of a queen.

When she donned the cap, he would be there, beside the door.

“Welcome, brave Lancelot,” … Read entire article »

by JoSelle Vanderhooft

Forgive me, Orpheus.
Your music
moves stones to skip
and rivers from their course.
Even the winter queen weeps—
night and sleet down cheeks
long stilled to granite
in this place of earth
and bloodlessness.

But it cannot move me.
Your lyre
all seven strings
picking all things lively—streams
the heavy pear trees
and the leaping stones
up into a wreath of notes.
How can this music move me
now I drink … Read entire article »

by Jessica Paige Wick

Over the hills and through the woods there was a joyful house.
Then there was a tragedy: maybe death.
The youngest left to stop it.
            Just for a little while,
                            not forever.
There was a journey and there were many hardships.
There was also aid given in return for good deeds performed unasked.
Then inside a maze or a castle or a dungeon of a cavern
or a forest
or a … Read entire article »

by Donna Quattrone

I wonder
If you would even recognize me now,
My cruel, heart-eating Mother.
Me; this fallen princess,
Loser at slots
And maternal crap shoots.
How far from the tree
I’ve traveled.
A world of difference shimmers
In the looking glass today,
Although the high cheekbones,
Arched eyebrows,
And upward slanted lips
Are still there.
Sparkling eyes and rosy blush remain,

But now
Fine lines trace memory
And experience
I’d not trade
Read entire article »