by Claire Scott
We bring pots of yellow chrysanthemums
with orange ribbons around their waists
a stuffed bear holding an I Luv You heart
a slice of gingerbread the rats will eat tonight
we settle in on the lush green hills with our thermoses of tea
leaning against shiny marble stones newly engraved
with our mother’s/father’s/aunt’s/cousin’s names
telling stories of Olivia’s home run, of Austin’s first A
of the new jacket we got on sale that perfectly
matches the taupe pants we bought last week
although we are worried… Continue reading
by Andrew Michael Roberts
It was night, and we were lost. We called the police.
Hello, they said, this is the police, we have sidearms and
stunners and black cars and shackles, and we know
how to use them.
There was a silence.
We said, We are afraid.
by Doreen Beyer
A small fire feeds on fruit boxes,
warming arthritic bones made cold
under forty feet of sea. Continue reading
by Bill Hollands
Close your eyes as the ridges
tick by under your fingertip.
Wherever you land you go,
do-overs allowed, as many
as you like. Madagascar, Nepal,
Suriname, Chad – I always
wanted Chad. I knew
nothing about it. Continue reading
by Jim Kraus
Past the line of stones,
watch out for the kiawe, its thorns.
Then run across the hot sand Continue reading