by Saadia Peerzada
First they took August away
and now September,
I eat a navel orange over the dustbin
so I can leave the kitchen clean. Continue reading
by Saadia Peerzada
First they took August away
and now September,
I eat a navel orange over the dustbin
so I can leave the kitchen clean. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Brian Giddens
Dorothy never thought she’d live this long.
An age where she holds more losses than assets.
First husband? Heart attack. Second husband?
Didn’t linger long from cancer. Friends?
One by one by one by one, a row of dominos.
Continue reading
by Drew Heuermann
Our hands, interlocked through the night. Doing what we can to keep
our lanterns close. Our bodies, a pair of spent tissues
floating around, too fragile to rush. A religion of inconsequence,
of passing. But what does that mean for everything in my arms?
The last mom-job of Grandma’s body was one squeeze. Almost every
body had a name once, and before they were bodies? Were we Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
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).
Filed under Poetry
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
Filed under Poetry