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Poetry

I Realize Too Late This Was a Test

My grandmother is a newborn puppycurled up between hospital bed guardrails.The surgeon tried plumbing her arteries —she clawed her way off the table. Softwhite fuzz on wrinkled pink flesh,

Poetry

First Draft of a Letter in Support, Ghost-Written by the Patient

Lex Williams Page

Sometimes my mother tells me she does not know who I am anymoreand I get lost trying to explain where all this change is coming from

Poetry

JULIA

Alison Thumel

We knelt on the tile floor of the sunroomwith our backs to her. It was summer.We pressed our faces up close to the grateof the old metal fan and spoke.The fan sent everything we said back at us,

Poetry

Places I Do Not Want You to Go

C.E. Perry

Anywhere in a halter top.Between the hard place and the rock: brothels chemo cults.

Poetry

Woman on a Bus

Scott Lowery

When I was a young girl—too youngto speak up, but old enough to remember—my mother vanished on a long trip, or soI was told. The truth—who knows?I lived with an aunt, who kept me fed

Poetry

We sit on the veranda at assisted livinglooking across the fake pond at the trees.Their reflections shiver as a breeze ripplesthe murky surface of the water. You speakof rivers and creeks and how all things

Poetry

grand(father) sheds his grudges

Han Raschka

There are tubes sticking out of his body,his body cannot process his wastinganymore and I ask his body if its sick of beinghis body,what would itbe if it were not hisbody? His body fires