Today’s choice
Previous poems
Stephen C. Curro
calm river
again, his fishing line
caught on a tree
*
raindrops slide
down the window
death in the family
*
thick clouds
snowflakes dot
my dog’s fur
*
breaking clouds
flower petals pasted
to my windshield
*
Christmas dinner
with Mom’s new boyfriend
empty wine glass
*
scent of sage
desert clay disturbed
by footprints
Stephen C. Curro lives in Fort Collins, Colorado, USA, where he works as an educator. His fiction and poetry have appeared with Acorn, Scifaikuest, and Factor Four Magazine, among other venues. When he isn’t writing or working, he’s most likely reading a good book or watching bad monster movies. You can read more of his work at www.stephenccurro.com
Gopal Lahiri
From this far-side apartment
you watch jarul leaves darkening with the seasons
Adam Kelly
Determined, you smash against the window
I have to admire you in your striped suit
Sandra Noel
The sea happens to me today
not because I’m the woman in the bakers
brusque turned rude
or the peaches still hard in the bowl
Grace Lynn
Sunlight saunters in long, thin wires through the fallow field
of my bedroom. You approach, a migrating heron
in a runny yolk collar and suntanned shorts, a white-light emissary
of hope. . .
Miriam Swales
I’m waiting for news I don’t want to talk about
and scrolling through old photos to escape.
After some swipes, I see you walking away.
Chris Hardy
The night before we left we smoked opium
for the first time and didn’t sleep.
Angela France
Perhaps some small creature fallen
from where it should be. I am unsure
whether I saw it move.
Adam Horovitz
We cannot update you yet, other than to say we are caught
in a doldrums between stations and that your father can wait
as he has been waiting these past two years . . .
Sue Spiers
A woodpigeon calls
his five-note matins.
Petals ratchet wide
as the sun rises.