Issue 1
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R. Martin
Rebecca Martin Little House Your father in the foyer, ten feet tall. Your father in the hallway beneath the crack in the ceiling, bellowing to the babysitter at the door, Your name is my daughter’s favorite character! You hiding now on orange carpet under a makeshift tent, now in the doorframe behind your mother’s panty-hose-packed…
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S. Laskin
Sarah Laskin Back to Basics before challah toasted with Brie, honeyed goat cheese, arugula, fig compote before crusty sourdough grilled with Gruyere, rosemary butter, caramelized shallotsbefore ancient-grain miche wood-fired with smoked Gouda, sliced pear, jalapeno jambefore Croque-Monsieur, Welsh Rarebit, Monte Cristo, Mushroom Reubenthere was my mother still in her nightgown and robe on a Sunday…
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V. Crawford
Victoria Crawford Love at 75 Daily tipped into my palmvitamins and mineralsfor my healthhusband’s gifts: A, B, C, Ecalcium, iron, and manganeseCandlelit dinnerforty-nine years, still romantiche reaches for my handwith anniversary vitaminsin sickness and in health Poet Victoria Crawford lives and writes in Thailand where she is retired. Her poetry has been published in journals…
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J. Veazy
Jenna Villforth Veazey Common Milkweed Tender silken sail seed riddenset forth only to separate—spin now, under silvered sun,a jewel on display, finest filamentspider-curious. Float far from home only to arrive empty handed, free. Jenna Villforth Veazey is a poet and Virginia Master Naturalist. In 2023, she created Poetry on the Trail, an installation of QR…
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S. Murphy
Sheila Murphy The State Tree of Arizona Is Littering the Walkways with Yellow Dust Floriferous posies dry-spillAlong the ground beneath Each yellow “Desert Museum” Lushly abloom and leaving evidenceIn wildly warm light Feathery lovely on the eyeNeighbors want your faceOn a wanted poster for failingTo brush off this most perfectYellow hue it’s up to you…
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D. LeBlanc, Self-Portrait
Diane LeBlanc Self-Portrait as a Nine-Line Poem Yesterday, I peeled the ripe sky and ate the eclipse. Drank the red off a blackbird’s wing.Sent my spine out for another bag of clementines.I wrote cereal meaning carceral, and readers said nothing. Days of borrowed rodent bones.Nights of linen and glue.My line break wants a tattoo. I’m…
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Z. Blaylock, The Ones
Zoë Blaylock The ones who loved me best healed me inside out. They nudged my burrowed self from the bed, room, house, and past the gate. Howling at the sky and scenting for the sea they urged me to untether myself from uninspired blues and frolic instead toward a wilder range of hues. Belly up…
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J. Wilkos
Jacek Wilkos Little Library little librarya bird nestsbetween the pages Jacek Wilkos is an engineer from Poland. He’s addicted to buying books, loves black coffee, dark ambient music and riding his bike. His stories and poems were published in numerous anthologies by Black Hare Press, Alien Buddha Press, Black Ink Fiction, Insignia Stories, CultureCult Press,…
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T. O’Connell
Thomas O’Connell How We Keep Our Places The public library posted a photograph to its Facebook page of a young woman sitting in a window seat wearing, what appears to be, an Easter dress. One foot slipped delicately behind her ankle, she holds a sandwich plate in her lap. The caption explained that the photograph…
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B. Westwood Diehl
Barbara Westwood Diehl Bees Being Bees Let us celebrate the bees, the fat bumblers, the drunk stumbling, window smacking, honey heralds, be-winged and bedazzling, gold-sashed. The blustering pomposity of the lot of them. Their bellies full of spring. Bees brimming with busy beeness. Lift a glass of catmint, a dinner plate of dahlias, a salad…