by Ken Holland
Another ancient folk singer has died / and of course out come your stories
by Justin Hunt
I think of what it means to leave a childhood, / the death I’ll die when I shutter our house / and drive Mom away
by Rebecca Foust
I’m sure it’s clickbait, a girl pulling and pulling / a line from a hole in the ice for what seems / like an hour
by Chris Atkin
I decided a long time ago I wanted one tattoo. / A single image that screams of self, / meant to say all the things I cannot find the words for.
by B. Fulton Jennes
My neighbor, a widower, vows / that his house will be / so death-cleaned on his demise / that his daughter’s only worry / will be to return the library book / laid to rest on his nightstand.
by Claire Matturro
Checking out in a long line / my mind on what the hell / I’m fixing for supper / I notice the guy in front of / me has a gun strapped to his hip
by Bill Ratner
I’d be a baby without skin, a parrot / without a little soap-shaped food cake, / a truck driver out of a job.
by Roy Bentley
I was raised with religion, if you count my granny Potter / reading to me from The King James Bible
by Kathleen Rooney
This day could use the excitement of receiving a surprise package. Even better if that package reads THIS SIDE UP.
by Annette Sisson
Autumn crisps the tapering light, / oak pulls on its auburn duster.