Julie Bloss Kelsey

inching closer
I hear their veiled threats...
trees

— Julie Bloss Kelsey

John Hawkhead

walking alone
the forest edge grows
darker

— John Hawkhead

Elizabeth Moura

only child
the house is full of bugs
calling mama

— Elizabeth Moura

Roberta Beach Jacobson

cat scoots
doll’s eye
under the bed

— Roberta Beach Jacobson

Alan Summers

nightzoning
streetlights pick out
the sputum

— Alan Summers

John Hawkhead

through iron gates
a funeral cortege
glides into dusk

— John Hawkhead

Elizabeth Moura

her long nails
sliced it off
marriage bed

— Elizabeth Moura

David Baker

the virus

in my thinking

about breath

— David Baker

Roberta Beach Jacobson

under the permafrost
generations
of  ghosts

— Roberta Beach Jacobson

Jenni Wyn Hyatt

every morning
the top stair creaks
our cat long dead

— Jenni Wyn Hyatt

John Hawkhead

probably mist
something moving
through the graveyard

— John Hawkhead

Elizabeth Moura

today’s floaters
a sky full of dead birds
singing their tunes

— Elizabeth Moura

Alan Summers

through the amber glass medulla peel thawing

— Alan Summers

Roberta Beach Jacobson

the collection
of numbered keys
asylum

— Roberta Beach Jacobson