Watching You Nap Beneath a Faded Quilt
by Angela Chaidez Vincent
The body is past tense. / It’s here, but / it’s already happened
Not
by B. Fulton Jennes
On Saturdays, our father loaded / his disappointment of daughters / into the back of the Chevy / and drove to the hardware store
Sunday Morning
by John Glowney
And the gray patches of sky over the house today / are nothing that a fresh coat of paint and some lilacs / wouldn’t fix.
Metastasis
by Ja’net Danielo
Our lives are a series / of black gaps. Someone I love is dying & this is what / I say to myself, not knowing what it means.
Capturing the Scent of Rain
by Karen Paul Holmes
Our ancestors taught us to love / the scent because we need rain / to survive
Lullaby for My Brother
by Carmen Fought
When I listen for your heart / I listen with my hands, / I listen with a hand on your chest
What to Make of a Diminished Thing
by Laura Ruby
People ask how I feel these days but / my tongue is both too sharp and too tender.
If I Ever Have a Daughter
by Chris Atkin
If I ever have a daughter I hope she knows / that even though her father’s bones / are made of mountains, in these hands / she will find nothing but softness
Wondrous
by Sarah Freligh
My mother is crying again, and we’re laughing / at her because we know nothing of loss and its sad math
I Fail My Step-Daughter
by Cecil Morris
I was her second-chance, replacement dad, / a do-over daddy meant to keep her safe
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:
Box Office Gospel
by Marissa Glover
Open Contests
by Stephen Parrish, with the editors of The Lascaux Review