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When You Are Invisible, You Can Say Anything
by Valentina Gnup
At sixty-one, I count and recount my remaining summers.
Zilla, 2015
by Jeff Somers
When she signed the lease and moved her stuff into the place, she knew she was leaning into a decline she’d begun some time before.
Wapiti Nocturne
by Douglas W. Milliken
Mum died in the last days of October, leaving—among other things—a lot of fall-time chores incomplete.
When We Believed the World Wouldn’t End
by Benjamin Cutler
After the final harvest, the forecast / called for freezing temperatures / and the end of this winsome world.
Palloncino
by Lauren Lynn Matheny
Whatever the color, there had been a balloon. There had been a boy. And there had been a fall.
Ode to a Bee on the Small of Your Back
by Partridge Boswell
Blind to what tickles the delta of nerves there / you rub a humming with the back of your hand
Five Short Poems
by Simon Perchik
These gravestones left stranded / warped from sunrises and drift / —they need paint, tides, a hull
Serving
by Kari Gunter-Seymour
Remember that time your dog died and I didn’t tell you for months
My Broken Brain
by Angie Ellis
I keep a list of songs I know well, so that if I get dementia people can reach the real me hidden inside my broken brain.
White Chrysanthemums
by Lori Nevole
My first girlfriend was Catholic, and thought no one would know she was a lesbian if she kept up a great manicure.