by Benjamin Cutler
After the final harvest, the forecast / called for freezing temperatures / and the end of this winsome world.
by Partridge Boswell
Blind to what tickles the delta of nerves there / you rub a humming with the back of your hand
by Simon Perchik
These gravestones left stranded / warped from sunrises and drift / —they need paint, tides, a hull
by Kari Gunter-Seymour
Remember that time your dog died and I didn’t tell you for months
by Jennifer Gennari
I want to be president / she says unprompted. / Her unfinished writing task / lies on the table between us.
by Karen Paul Holmes
When fifteen hours of Wagner’s Ring draws to a close, please Siegfried, don’t take the potion making you forget Brünnhilde.
by Michael Mark
My father puts the milk carton / on the kitchen table. Declares, She bought it—before.
by Marissa Glover
Doctors cannot tell you when you’re born / how many pitches your arm contains.
by Lois P. Jones
In your next life you will be / birthed in needles / of hoarfrost, your eyes still / in the blue gauze between
by Roy White
You can die in January if you want, / and lots of people do, but this far north, / nobody gets into the ground till spring.