by Angela Chaidez Vincent
The body is past tense. / It’s here, but / it’s already happened
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
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.
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.
by Karen Paul Holmes
Our ancestors taught us to love / the scent because we need rain / to survive
by Carmen Fought
When I listen for your heart / I listen with my hands, / I listen with a hand on your chest
by Laura Ruby
People ask how I feel these days but / my tongue is both too sharp and too tender.
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
by Sarah Freligh
My mother is crying again, and we’re laughing / at her because we know nothing of loss and its sad math
by Cecil Morris
I was her second-chance, replacement dad, / a do-over daddy meant to keep her safe