Home

January

By Alixa Brobbey

for my mother Stale snow crunching under sneakers,and the naked trees, branchinglike burnt fingers. That first winter,how did you survive? Above you, the sky blinkingits milky glaucoma eye. Below your feet,slush slipping through your shoes,and into your skin. The neighbors colder than the crunch,icy veined. Reaching their hands outfor your curls, your swollen belly, theynever …

Read More

A Stone Rolled Away

By Melonie Cannon

Do silent stones ache for light?buried deep under moss and pitch, heavy dirt and grasswaiting for someone to dig, finger-clench in a perfect fit,and carry them toward a new creation-to be their legs, their hands, their momentum,to become like man and move? plucking them up to rattle in a pocket,be a holy talisman, the border …

Read More

Mother

By Lisa Meadows Garfield

Mother is dying of dementia, her memory gonelong before her body, my body createdof seed and egg and dust, borne andbirthed by hers, nourished by her milk, bycarrots and apples and nuts grownin the soil of her knowing, the storiestoo, she fed me, of magic and courage,of gods within us, how we could seeforever from …

Read More

Pandemic Nativity

By Heather Harris-Bergevin

Mary was bossy this year. Joseph tended towander a bit, so she steered him to the cradle.Part way through, the babydoll, being too wiggly,came unwrapped. She fixed it carefully, our Jesus,wrapped in wadded-up clothes, like in the Bible.Last year’s baby Jesus was, this year, a sheep,wooly and smiling with few teeth, knowinghe is important, not …

Read More

Estherazade

By Heather Harris-Bergevin

Sometimes I craveordinary issues. For such a timeas this, I’ve been told, I knowI know I know I cannot be anything exceptExtraordinary, and there cannot be anybad hair days, or cellulite,flat bon mots, dresses slightly uncomfortablewhen you are a queen. Yet, I yearn forslightly over-fermented fruits, gonesoftly bad, for kisses accidentally toowet or too long, …

Read More

Cardinal Rules

By Linda Hoffman Kimball

February snowSwirls, whirls through the bare aspens.Red gem on a branch.

Kaleidoscope Life

By Linda Hoffman Kimball

40 candles blaze.Accomplished, muscled, married.Once babe in my arms.

Genetic Needlework

By Linda Hoffman Kimball

My Nordic mothers– A long line of seamstresses –Attend my stitching.

Beguiled

By Marci Lassen

We enter the yardduring early morning hourssearching for the sourceof a sound that woke usin the deep night,a calling out,but sleep was stillheavy and we allowedthe warmth of our bedto hold us. The morning is profoundin its silence, dew clingingto our feet. We stopour search to lamentthe dropping leavesof our potted tangerine.For months it promisedabundance, …

Read More

All songs worship something

By Lorren Lemmons

All songs worship something and I’m prostrate before the odes sung to God, sex, and Friday nights.Praise bards who marry lyric and chord.Praise vocal cords transforming breathinto crystalline arias and oak-timbred blues.Praise fingers bleeding over guitar strings,buzzing lips soloing jazz. Praise soundboardsand speakers, auditoriums and microphones, boomingbass in a rusted-out Honda Civic. Hail nursery rhymes …

Read More