Remains
by Maureen Simons
They came back every year to lay flowers at the spot. Two little girls, hand in hand, walked soundlessly up Nora’s driveway.
Candy: A Teenage Gospel
by Tommy Dean
I promised I wouldn’t follow, that I’d have to stay alive, because the people would demand a witness.
For My Siren
by Emily Bornstein
Don’t tell me there isn’t something pretty about you / (don’t tell me you don’t know it).
Promise
by Lynn McGee
I cradle him, big kid curled like an infant, water rocking, / chlorine staunching his vivid knees, belly swollen, / legs blue.
Black Lives Matter
by Wendy Russ
Our message to Black writers: We want to hear your voice. We see you, we know you have things to say, and we want to see submissions from you. Please give us a chance to lift you up. We will actively recruit writers we see out on the internet. If you don’t come to us, we will come to you.
It all began around a campfire…
Beautiful language
is meant to be heard as well as read, and in fact words were vocalized eons before they were ever committed to clay or parchment. Storytelling began around campfires. We seek prose and poetry that continue the tradition.
Contributor Spotlight:
Love and Hot Chicken
by Mary Liza Hartong
Open Contests
by Stephen Parrish, with the editors of The Lascaux Review