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Two Poems by Jacqueline Jules

Norman Rockwell Thanksgiving My mother framed the Rockwell painting. That image of matriarch in white apron setting down white platter with turkey large enough to feed all the smiling...

The Burden of Southern History by W. Perry Epes

As if England and Nature were the same, At Williamsburg we imitate by culling Tricorn and lace—it’s Restoration Game! And out we strut, colonialling, Having to mincestep Revolution...

Train by Emily Goff

an angel fell asleep on my shoulder last evening, in the train car aswarm with humans who had tumbled in from the city, some drunken with reddish...

Pergola by Serena Agusto-Cox

I never grew out of cookies and milk I grew in. Someone reflective, not out loud. Even behind the smoke, I saw wheels turn and wondered where had you gone?   Perhaps it...

Two Poems by Alexander Olesker

Cape Cod Peace rumbles in the distance like thunder then flashes in your window like lightening to hang heavy in the air like the damp so the boards...

Seeing by Holly Mason

I. “Koi,” in Japanese, is homophonic for the word “love.”   Koi fish can recognize the person that feeds them.   Circling your mother’s pond, they open their wide mouths to vanish the...

One Step Down by John Huey

Toward the New Year, that late December, we parked the car near the old Sealtest Plant just off Pennsylvania a block down from Washington Circle where, since...

Statue in the Shallows by Rebecca Leet

Odd. Just plain odd. No other word for it. It’s hard to see, against the backdrop of beech and brush at the edge of the river. Fisherfolk...

All You Remember by Rose Strode

Climb the stairs. Take the call. Stand by the old green chair. Don’t sit down. Hear your mother say It’s cancer. Don’t answer right away. Clamp down your fear before you...

Refugee, 15 by Naomi Thiers

Fear is in your bread and you must choke it down. To think of home— the courtyard with its red filigreed rug, the peel-paint walls, how the breeze...

Must-read

Two Poems by Lori Rottenberg

An Introduction I was born from the undertow of empire,tides of death that surge and recede. I was born in a tent made of papers,in countries...

Verbal Escalation by James Lane

Verbal Escalation Slowly, but surely I've been establishingresidency in your bedroom. I took out thatvacancy sign months ago. The services I'vereceived here are some of...

Two Poems by Chris Biles

Dead End Life’s routine is like a straightaway on a country roadOn and on, beyond our sight, it continuesand sometimes looking down that road makes...
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