Kenneth Pobo

      Orange Spell An angry grandmother isn’t sure who she’s angry with.  Everybody, nobody.  Though she prefers to wear black, she casts a spell that turns people orange.  We adapt quickly, eat from orange dishes, make orange bullets for orange guns. A...

Claire Simpson

      Nobody’s daddy If I’d known it was him I wouldn’t have smiled so warmly. But he looked like any other middle-aged man taking a Sunday stroll. It’s funny what time can erase. The passing years had stripped away the parts of him that had once made...

Louella Lester

    Unnatural Migration When Mom flew off with the Canada geese you made me promise that we would never leave one another. Ever. I wanted to protect you, even though you were an irritating baby sister who I had to bribe with candy and pop, so I could hang...

Francesco Palma

      The nightmare where I am back in middle school A speck of dust fights with glitter on the floor of my school’s gymnasium. A wrestling match rolling from corner to corner of the green linoleum, invisible to most. There is awkwardness in my legs,...

David Waters

      My Mother’s Hands When I was a child my mother’s hands were unremarkable. She never got her nails done or anything crazy like that. We’re talking the 50’s here, in a small Canadian town, a modest religious woman who would...