K.P. Taylor
It was almost midnight when the night crew shuffled in like a horde of caffeinated zombies. Some headed straight for the lockers to stow their pre-dawn lunches; others punched in at the time clock and immediately disappeared on smoke breaks. Lenny ambled over to the bulletin board to scrutinize the new schedule. He began tallying up his hours by counting on his fingers.
Two Poems
Romana Iorga
She remembers the color,
the feel in her hand, its weight,
the smell of dry wood.
A Siren
Lauren Camp
After the earache started, it harrowed to hear people talk.
I could not live but ambiguous within the thick animal
of voice.
Two Poems
Radoslav Rochallyi
Grace Street Nocturne
Frederick Wilbur
Along the sidewalks of autumn avenues,
angels skateboard, delivering evening’s
first blush and daily summary.
Children on their way home
slush through pools of gingko leaves
that glow like the circles of lamplight
not yet flickered to compete.
The Robins, That Is
Susan Underwood
The generations who put me in this skin
would hardly recognize me in late April dusk
among suburban dogwoods past their bloom,
a faint delineation of the daughter they thought
to make, sitting in a meager backyard.
The ghost is learning
Natalli Amato
Summer is gone. Like the good ghost that I am
I walk to where the beach turns to cattails,
the small palm of land that held my bare back
