Early One Morning in October

by Ron Domen

I woke from a restless dream about my father
who recently died. He would have been 102
this month. I got out of bed and went outside.
No faint glow from the rising sun was visible
and I was in awe of the dark clear sky.
Jupiter was in the eastern sky in the constellation
Gemini with its two bright stars Castor and Pollux.
Taurus and Orion were in their glory as was Sirius
the brightest star. When I was 10 my father helped
me build my first telescope and sparked a lifelong
interest in astronomy. In my dream my father
was alone walking away from me toward trillions
of points of light. He looked back briefly and waved.

 

Ron Domen is a retired physician living in central Pennsylvania. He has two published books of poetry (The Owl in the Woodwork, Finishing Line Press and Plaintive Music, Dos Madres Press).

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Grasp

by Ramiro Valdes 

You grasp the back
Of my neck,
And pluck trenches
Out of my vertebrae
For your fingers
To sleep in. You root
Yourself in me,
Continue reading

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Apple on a String

by Matt Bearden

It should be dehydrated now,
at least enough to not make a mess
on the floor. Still, it hangs
in the corner like a cocoon.  Continue reading

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Cyclic

by Erin Matheson Ritchie

Michelle divorces her husband and passes
a decidual cast the same week, her body
expelling eight years’ entropy with a vise grip
cramp more painful than the split. Continue reading

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Toward New Year

by Jacalyn Shelley

After the wind’s fingertips
find their way through our walls,
after the furnace’s cold exhale
wakes us from our nestled warmth, Continue reading

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