Helen T Curtis

      Tulip You seemed to be born blind. At first in cracked pot, in frosted compost Your leaves pined – jaded limp swords Fingering in, I could find no core, nothing that might bloom. So we passed the days. You grew lankier with the light. But still,...

Christine Moore

      Yours truly, If only my tongue were context then my teeth would be meaning and when I opened my mouth to eat I would find a story there each time. The one of the blue boy whose mother fed all the out-of-work-actors in the neighborhood but never...

Rachael Davey

      Municipal Pool That particular, chemical clarity, sun into blue, ripples on the ceiling. Rare days when water rests between the ropes, unbroken and the lifeguard dreams by the open door. You slip in then, quiet, smooth – thinking otter,...

Christopher M James

      Bulk I suppose this beautiful bright dawn is the sky trying to offset the wild gusts of last night like a rescue mission. We still don’t get what we thought we’d got. I suppose our serial wrangling to solve the weather we’ve caused is even more...