Poetry

STRONTIUM-90 by Jeff Burt

STRONTIUM-90 by Jeff Burt

My mother wore a scarf and scolded us to warm our ears: we could not chew the snow for soot and strontium-90 lurked in every lick, upper atmosphere churning chimney bits and atomic testing isotopes. My dad laughed how the ash could strengthen bones and the isotope deplete them so if they worked as pulleys […]

WAS by Jed Myers

WAS by Jed Myers

Her flesh on my flesh, mine on hers, time after time in that thoughtless trance— now I see the two luminous blurs in a cloud of the past. It still occurs in reruns projected upon the expanse before me, her flesh, and mine on hers, times on the porch, the couch, the stairs to our […]

THE HAMILTON by Kenneth Weene

THE HAMILTON by Kenneth Weene

It was my father’s— the only thing of worth or history. Patina-ed stainless, oblong, always needing winding, keeping nearly time, and filled with memories we had not spent. Hamilton, seventeen jeweled, a present on the old man’s marriage; passed not by testament but default from undertaker to son, who, in this night table drawer, keeps […]

TWO POEMS from “AWKWORDS” by Holly Painter

TWO POEMS from “AWKWORDS” by Holly Painter

  Gam This one’s not exactly dirty, just strange. Gam means leg, but while I often say leg, I rarely use gam. Why not? Why not change it up? Well first, I’d get a lot of “Beg your pardon?” Most people don’t know what gam means. Even Word and Gmail underline the word in red […]

BIOLOGICAL WARFARE: 1781 by Kim Roberts

BIOLOGICAL WARFARE: 1781 by Kim Roberts

The sachem’s council fire is extinguished, the few survivors of the contagion scattered into the woods. The Governor has ordered all returning soldiers to stop outside of towns and be inspected for signs of pestilence. The Selectmen are bound to ensure those with the pox be removed to a place of safety, their clothes burned. […]

UNSTABLE AIR CONDITIONS by Michael Salcman

We hit turbulence over the Labrador Sea. At an altitude of 35 thousand feet, it’s minus 70 degrees outside and our ground speed is 461 miles per hour. We’re due to arrive at five forty-five. None of the units agree— we live metric and die English, like the Japanese who marry Buddhist and bury Shinto. […]

BUSHKILL PARK by Jean Free

BUSHKILL PARK by Jean Free

Part I. The purest magic in the world is here, a yellow glow inside the “Barl of Fun.” I’m drawn by covert flashes, overhear the shrieks of lucky children who outrun the barrel’s sideways pull. When it’s my turn, a current like an eddy drags me down. The friction of its constant orbit-burn scrapes up […]