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
by Davin Malasarn
She told him to lie on the floor. His father lit tall, yellow candles and placed them in cups of sand on the shrine. They covered him in a tablecloth that his aunt crocheted herself.
by Philip Appleman
On all the living walls / of this dim cave, / soot and ochre, acts of will, / come down to us to say: This is who we were.
by Janice D. Soderling
One day he was cock-of-the-walk, full of jokes and juice, strumming his guitar, waxing the big fins on his red Chevy, knowing another woman in the biblical sense.
by Lois P. Jones
Because you are strong. / Because your branches span out ahead of you. / And in so many years, age has allowed breadth to match height.
by Sarah Hina
Brake lights on a highway. Not her favorite sight. It must be an accident. Or road construction. Either way, it wasn’t right. Not when they were so close to home.