The Company of Shallow Holes, by Dino Parenti
One unremarkable March day, a man began puncturing random holes in his withered pasture with a post-hole digger.
Ecru, by Oak Morse
We were all one beautiful blend / of mama’s love. My brother, / the color of ecru, the other one / sepia, and me, ebony.
by Rebecca Foust
I made soup tonight, with cabbage, chard / and thyme picked outside our back door.
by Melissa Hart
On the Friday before Election Day, I shivered on the side of a busy street in Eugene, Oregon wearing a costume from the Disney film Frozen and holding a giant orange sign that read “Do You Want to Build a Democracy?”
by Joseph Fasano
You sit at a window and listen to your father / crossing the dark grasses of the fields
by Roy Bentley
When Dave Wheeler fielded the hard one-hopper / to short, he fired the ball to Melvin White
by Jill Evans
In the cool morning, bright-hot now from his bath, / my child’s child leans into my lap
by Katie Tunning
I’m sorry for saying the heat death of the universe / when you asked what comforted me most
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.
by Tommy Dean
I promised I wouldn’t follow, that I’d have to stay alive, because the people would demand a witness.
by Emily Bornstein
Don’t tell me there isn’t something pretty about you / (don’t tell me you don’t know it).
by Lynn McGee
I cradle him, big kid curled like an infant, water rocking, / chlorine staunching his vivid knees, belly swollen, / legs blue.