More than forty years here, each time passing these places, I recall: Farragut Park, I’m performing street theatre here for National Secretaries Day, a feminist play highlighting bias, equal rights and equal pay. My father saw the end of my scene, years later we saw Occupy camped out here. Sheridan Circle, around embassies we hold … More to Washington DC by Ruth Ticktin
I think the end of the world is tomorrow this morning was all granola & coffee grounds, my veins choking on themselves as cinder blocks fall off the building across the street. they say a cigarette takes 7 minutes off your life. calling for an ambulance is a good 2 weeks pay. I’m scared for … More I think the end of the world is tomorrow by Lee Patterson
Belly Buttons Lydia is afraid of belly buttons, especially insies. The valley once attached to another being by a cord creates quakes in her entire body. At birth her own tied-off navel grew infected. Doctors kept her in an incubator for a week until her fever subsided and the reddened knot faded. Sometimes at night … More Two flash pieces by Maureen Sherbondy
Mason Jars They’re hip these days, retro in an age of plastic, pre-packaged crap that leaks and unravels, leaving soppy messes on the well-swept floor. My niece used them as beer and wine glasses at her farm to-table wedding, lids carefully collected and stowed away— They are votive holders and vases, emanating light across dining … More Two Poems by Genevieve Creedon
A Stranger, a Stray, a Wanderer The bus stops & police line up … More Three poems by Matt Schroeder
seven or eight, dad counted pink baby possums eyes moist closed had to inspect when mother was out theirs and ours reconnaissance before I learned the word hung the hose over the lip of the garbage can turned it on “it’s the circle of life” filling the container “turn off the water,” he said “I’ll … More Two poems by Andrew Lafleche
The Star That Slept The sun had lost its heat; And knelt at the cold well in the clouds. Like a ball of cotton It erased the color From the sky’s fingernail Leaving it neutral and insipid; A stopped clock, A stymied year, A world before form and meaning Had twitched it into life; A … More Three poems by Melinda Giordano
Thumb can’t reach. The fork and spoon just won’t fit through the bottle’s narrow neck. I slap my hand against the Heinz sticker but nothing inside shakes loose. I could tip it upside down but, when it comes to ketchup, gravity takes its time. The easiest thing would be toss this bottle in the trash … More GETTING AT THE LAST KETCHUP IN THE BOTTLE by John Grey
“There’s a certain callous humor we need to practice medicine. It keeps us doing what we need to do.” —from an anonymous Medical Resident’s online comment I knew you were there alone, sitting in the darkness of your house, sitting next to your enormous patio window shaded with the excuse that it costs too much … More Cancer #2 by Natasha Deonarain
My mother died on her birthday 40 years ago. She died in Israel. I light the memorial candle in my kitchen in Evanston and recite the Kaddish, the Jewish prayer for the dead. I drag the box with the “fragile, handle with care” sign on it from the basement and put it on the chair … More In Memoriam by Miram Ben-Yoseph
