Category: SUBMITTED WORKS
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“The Last Ones” by Robert L. Penick
They seemed easier to spot thirty years ago, or perhaps my eye was keener.
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“Lunchtime” by Laura Taylor
Every day at lunchtime, a group of children cut across the green expanse of the school’s front yard, and into the labyrinthian streets of Sherwood Forest.
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“The Hoard” by Beth Ford
Light meant illuminating the encroaching emptiness. And that she didn’t want to see.
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“Lawn Chair on the Highway” by Andrew Gent
Lawn Chair on the Highway We are used to the disabledtruck, the inevitabledeer or squirrel carcassstill there a week later. But a chair is unexpected. Upright, positionedat the juncture of highwayand exit where the ramp veers off.As if waiting for its ownerto return, beer in hand,to sit and watch the paradewhere we are all equalparts…
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“Soul Blister” by K Anand Gall
Soul Blister Even though it has been swelling to a throbbing tightness, you decide not to pop the blister, the artifact of a day at the amusement park. You wore sandals, Keens, the ones composed of two cords and a sole. They weren’t new; you’d had them for years. They moved you between the entrance…
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“Water Works” by Dai Lin
Water works By 10 a.m., the African sun has baked me into the ground at 97 degrees. Like an overgrown, overripe mango, my body drops, collapses, puddles. The Ghanaian women around me are fasting from dawn ‘til dusk, without water, for Ramadan. At the dugout, they dunk and fill their water vessels with a blurring…
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“Hiking” by Peggy Hammond
Hiking the Appalachian Trail was embraced as therapy, antidote to tours in Iraq. Now was the time of peace, of filtered sunlight among poplar leaves, of streams tumbling inside rhododendron thickets, of learning if towhee’s call matched guidebook’s drink your teeeeee, learning if blue jays can mimic sharp call of the hawk. Instead, in the…
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“Prowl for Luck” by Jeff Schiff
Sure flight’s temping And it’d be tough to find a soul who would not slough it all to lift above braided boughs and neglected spires Today however the air at Lake Mary fills with nuisance taunters swoopers guardians of the cosmic lint pile Here they be crammed in oaks and transplanted ash just where their…
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“Late Summer Mountain After the Rain” by Danielle Hanson
The steam from the coffee cup replacesmorning fog entangled in the porch wisteria,blooming and falling. Bird song drips from trees,soaks into ground. The sound of bees liftsinto the tree, solidifies as honey. We leaveporch shade, pour ourselves into day. Danielle Hanson is a poet who strives to create and facilitate wonder. She is the author…
Thin Air Magazine 