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.
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
by Karen Paul Holmes
There she goes again, spinning / her wheelchair ’round the nursing home. / Two years, five thousand laps. So far.
by Lisa Cihlar
Does it matter that a migrating tern / is standing in the Fox River / with a goldfish in its beak? / The tern is a Caspian with a lovely black head / like the back-combed Italian mobsters in old movies.
by Camille Griep
Like almost everyone in America, I first encountered the puzzle that is The Great Gatsby in high school.
by Camille Griep
By the time they pull you out of the car, the party is already half over. Harry from accounting has mown through the good cheese and the VP is opening the evening’s lesser quality wines.
by Neil McCarthy
I hear the slightly scratched voice of Joan Baez coming from / the record player singing about the junipers in the pale moonlight, / applause erupting like hailstones on a corrugated iron roof.
by Carla Ferreira
They say in Avignon people dance on the bridge / that was either unfinished or fell apart— / no one remembers those folk stories anymore.
by Samantha Storey
Of all the images to come out of Saigon, your photo of the naked girl running toward the camera is the iconic one.
by Brett Garcia Rose
Here are the rules: You must begin every sentence or phrase with a vowel. Any word beginning with a consonant is considered high risk and must be preceded without pause by a vowel ending in a higher tonality.
by Gail C. DiMaggio
Another Monday in another February and the streets outside / are shiny with sleet, speckled with litter. Everything / diminishes—sumac and elm, Dad’s old Buick. Lust.
by Lisa Pellegrini
Before he was a seagull / he was the bed of the ocean / its stronghold and place of / penance, a tenderfoot of sorts.