Fiction
Short Story
A Beggar’s Opera House
She was suspicious that everyone in the room was melting. The man sitting at the coffee table directly in her line of sight was
Rachel Salisbury
Poetry
Where’s Nana?
She’s lighting a cigarette. The first time pops lost his words, I found her between the legs of a railway, staring at the ocean of
Christell Roach
Poetry
Hurricane
hurricane Syllables [hur-i-keyn, huhr– or, esp. British, -kuh n] –noun After a couple weeks sentence of staying in some foreign place with trees, she came back home and Miami
Christell Roach
Poetry
Ca’Venezia: Your Voice
Your voice alights on my armhair, a whiff of cigar smoke— caramel, and ghostly— “Cities die; let them.” Black thing to say. I patter
Robert Eric Shoemaker
Short Story
One
I can feel the evening sun, warm on my face, but the chill of the wind coaxes me to pull my coat tighter around me.
Debi Crouson