Dollars by Donna Dallas

I want to stop thinking about $plagues me like it’s a deathan endshrouds any sense I could have had Bills gotta get paidI try to conjure up a geniefrom this lanternrub away at thesmooth brass carvingsthey meant somethingin another life perhapsnot this onenot this dayas I weepimpoverished Rub my fingers togetherfeel a grainy scrapeno dollars appearlook to the cloudsbloated and grayif I had a nickel … Continue reading Dollars by Donna Dallas

Dead by Zeke Greenwald

Every morning from his roomI can hear the deed:Boaz at his Jewish prayers,Bound in phylacteries. He is dead, who doesn’t wantComfort from someone;Ajax called out to the skies, notFor god, but for his mom. In my neighbors’ yards, their dogsAre left there all alone:And if you’d walk past you’d sayThere was no master home. Dogs don’t deal in silent prayers,That’s why they psalmodizeAbandoned in their … Continue reading Dead by Zeke Greenwald

Smallness by Jacqueline Henry

Little ants on the table and a bug so small it looks like a speck. I just saw a Matt Damon movie about an experimental colony of small people, shrunken in response to overpopulation and food shortages and—you know, extinction. But I wonder if we will make ourselves small becausethat’s just what we do to ourselves—Not being enough.  And being like ants, replicating to be more. More than enough.To … Continue reading Smallness by Jacqueline Henry

The Floral Code by Susie Gharib

He distrusted utterance because he stammered at schooland lame words had made him the object of ridicule,so he took up painting and started to compilea language whose figures typified flowers. The only person who patiently accepted his flawsand reiterated his words with a reassuring voicestood by him to witness the birth of a codeaesthetically borrowed from the floral world. He kept in his pocket the … Continue reading The Floral Code by Susie Gharib

Metamorphosis by Ron Kolm

I’d been going through a terrible time, separating from my wife, and everything I touched, broke.I was working in a bookstore on 8th Street in New York City,the only person on the night shift, barely hanging on to the job.Among the tasks I had to do every evening after closing was clean the bathroom.Late one night I accidentally knocked an empty vase off the back of the toilet sending it crashing into the porcelain bowlcreating … Continue reading Metamorphosis by Ron Kolm

On Finding an Obituary for My Sixth-Grade Teacher by Meredith Davies Hadaway

for Mrs. Slover I imagine you still at your desk, a little sweaty as you always were, reading aloud to us each morning instead of silent prayer.  Gravel-voiced, a blonde from Northern Italy, you were tough, demanding, even brutalin your honest way. No time for coddling  or excuses. We adored you. Awkward,shy, class clown, stutterer, or swaggerer—you gave us each an equal shot at sixth-grade greatness. I used to … Continue reading On Finding an Obituary for My Sixth-Grade Teacher by Meredith Davies Hadaway

What was not said by Cristian Pop

Oath in the night that is quest for the silencenot isolation but reigning from afar on one’s expectations,praise the hours that gave moments to build out of nothingwith recipes written in cold running water,ode to renouncement when knitting vague feelingsas the cure for the lonely is walking away… Why stay in a present when so many futures awaitbut out of deception and fear of the … Continue reading What was not said by Cristian Pop