Finding Faith in a College Town

By William Aarnes

The things one can discover
opening a garage door—

this Sunday morning
it’s that a variety of condoms

is sold as formal wear.

Cycles

By Jill L. Cooper Here are the sacred ties and hedging promises of young lovers — who don’t know yet, they are pregnant. I wanted to paint a story of this couple of bicycle riders, with their strong backs, pedaling together to the golden maturing coastline, and how these cycling lovers are stopped at a […]

On Politeness

By Jonathan May

Mothers run towards the trucks
and the soldiers, barrels-up
to sunlight, ride in the back.

They have never been so
hungry—

Lost

By Judy Bebelaar

In June fog, I am an empty boat,
weathered, one oar lost,
at the center of a fathomless lake.

On a warm July morning,
I am a blue canoe far from the sea—

Stir Crazy

By Sarah Carleton

Eight days of rain and he’s climbing the door jambs,
bare feet and spine wedged against the molding,
clothing strewn below.
He inches up: Mommy, look at me!

Going out doesn’t help.

Park Bench Behind the Diamond

By Marcus Clayton

On the other side,
of the viridescent fence—
upturned chain-link at the feet
trench too small
for our torn

The Fourth Wall

By Loukia M. Janavaras

I can recall when the first wall
came down
it was unexpected
how the sunlight barged in
from where it was not

A Basin

By A. K. Kiik

The bees are washing themselves in honey
All night I listened through a cloth sack
A song of sour bread dunked into wine
Dark handful of grapes heavy a breast sweeter
Than ripe carried like a black sugar to the mouth