Sam Szanto

      Memories are squirming prehistoric creatures burrowing under my clothes, enlivened by tea in that mug that matches your eyes, Revolutionary Road shown on TV, the airline ticket from our Paris trip leading to le labyrinthe, feet blistered trying to...

Bel  Wallace

      Trespasses Forgive me The E flat on your baby grand (not quite in tune). This same finger in the crack that goes clean through the bungalow’s supporting wall. Then flicking dust from the fringed edge of your floral lampshade. Noticing that they...

Arlette Manasseh

      Seventy-one Things Paulie Should Know Farewell to the mountains, high-cover’d with snow, Farewell to the straths and green valleys below; Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods, Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods. My...

Lynn Valentine

      A Bad Spell The rowan by the house is cracked in two, her bark ragged, grown good-for-nothing old. Fungi feed haphazardly and once, a treecreeper, his heart of white running like love on her trunk. A calligraphy of twigs marks wind-spun air, frail...