THE LAST TIME MY HEART BROKE – By Mr Mbonisi Zikhali Zomkhonto

So we kept change for lost off-chances,

over-the-counter jinx fixes for the chipped teeth of a heart

That bit more chunk than it could chew.

Where We Have to Go – by Lindsey Harrington

We queue up with all the semis, car carriers full of souped-up SUVs, reefers of Mexican spinach and sweet peas, empty logging trucks, and full livestock trailers. And us, with our secret cargo.

The Silent Barn – by Dawn Beecroft Teetzel

I climb the narrow staircase to the mow of my father’s barn, the wooden steps worn smooth by man. Thin, winter sunlight streams, like shards of glass through the cracks between the wallboards. My aged parents are away. My purpose here is to feed the cats, the only welcomed creatures of this barn. There are […]

Poppy’s Handshake – by Lawrence Maxwell

He’d shake your hand as though he were pulling a weed.
And when I turned twelve he taught me how to
see through the soiled promises of earthly negotiations.

Square Knot – by Andrew Shaughnessy

If ever there was a day for an invitation not to arrive, that day would have been the day of my grandmother’s funeral.

A Life on Fire – by Lindsey Harrington

Whispered conferences took place while Clarice slept.

“What’s the plan for today?”

Stone Ground – by Jennifer Mariani

All the ways to drink tea were steeped in you: warming the pot as if it were a heart in need of devout attention. The fullness of time required to brew was the patience of good things you taught me to wait for. The tea cozy a relic of the women who raised us; purposeful, […]

My Mother’s Ladder – By Finnian Burnett

My mother is building a ladder. She says she needs to change the bulb in the hallway, the one she has asked my father to change only a dozen times. I stand in the doorway of the garage and listen to her banging and swearing, the thundering bellow of her voice shaking the doorframe.

Soundtrack for a Marriage in Ruins – by Tara Mandarano

The sonic landscape of my living room is both melancholic and magnificent as I sit down to my first COVID Christmas Eve dinner, alone, with just the cats to keep me from face-planting in the gravy.

Boxcar Betty Catches The Westbound – by Leslie Casey

There wasn’t a place could lure you to stay, you said, feet planted,/that big bosom swagger every tramp’s dream. You swore an afterlife/on trains…