by Kateri Kosek
I wanted a hurricane
and I got one. Wanted to learn about mass,
about what flies up, and what gets left
behind. The plovers hunched on the beach, bedding
down in seaweed. Heavy wooden chairs on the decks of sea-
side cottages. It’s not what you think. Hundreds of terns Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Victoria Crawford
Hot dogs roasted over a charcoal fire
pickles and chips, fine dinner
after a hot day’s snorkeling
Agat’s coral reef,
Orote Peninsula, Guam,
concrete picnic table
between two thick-walled bunkers
urine smelly despite open
machine gun turrets facing the sea
our Yorkie gnawing his dog.
My father always liked dogs. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Anastasia Jill
Indrina bought honey from the man down the road at ten each morning, squeezing a fresh drop in the vile around her neck. She gifted the remaining goo to me, because she knew she’d never eat it.
“Then why do you buy it?”
Like every other day, she doesn’t answer. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
by Susanne Braham
I’ll remember, forever, one cold, November night.
Suddenly, you were a lifeless lump, slumped across our bed.
As your face turned shades of purple, I panicked,
unable to breathe life back into a mouth I knew so well.
Thirty-three years of kisses. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Nancy Dickeman
Alton Grear stood at the ocean’s edge, fluttering like a sail in the wind. At eighty-three, his long body, lean and brittle, was still strong. Even though the waves made him wobble and knocked his faded orange swim trunks below his buttocks, he regained his balance, pulled up his shorts and tightened the white drawstring, all while the ocean swirled at his ankles, teasing him further out. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
Hawaii Pacific Review 