e a r t h q u a k e: a social gathering
By priyanuj — Earthquake can get away with murder. Not the kind where she smothers me to death. She merely takes off the oxygen mask, so
Nov 16, 2021
Another Day
By Ian Willey — A girl on the train was crying and no one noticed. No one noticed as something fell from the bottom of a B-29 as it passed
Oct 14, 2021
She Walks Alone
By John L. Swainston — She walks alone. The years have passed. So, has he. No one to share this unchanged beauty. The babies have their own
Sep 13, 2021
Hatred Wraps the World in Blindness
By Vanessa Jakse — No one noticed the rainy day, the sky’s dark wrath, the lightning’s shaft, the rain that pelted down in anger. No one
Aug 7, 2021
Five Vanilla Cones
By Linda LeMoine — My mind flashes a memory of a mini me. I’m about five years old and we are on our weekly drive to visit cousins. Dressed
Jul 2, 2021
After the Interview
By John D Robinson — After reading the interview she said to me, "You sound
so bitter, mean about people." "I am," I said.
Jun 6, 2021
Five Haiku
By Sergio Inestrosa — The cool breeze.
The butterfly flies over the petals. Thrown tree in the middle of the way. Croak of toads. Raindrops
May 29, 2021
What Does the World Want from Me?
By Nicola Ranson — The emails want answering. The bills want paying. The garden wants watering. The calls want returning. The gifts want
May 22, 2021
Happiness Out and About
By Santana Kay — Cheap perfumes and public buses, people in and out of league; crammed in their own little worlds, wearing crestfallen faces
May 9, 2021
The Librarian
By Crystal James — No one noticed as I curled up under the huge tires that were half in the frozen ground. It sounds like I played in a
May 5, 2021
My Dreams
By Anita Nahal — No one noticed
that the warm whiff of deep green mint sauce in roasted brick red potatoes speckled with a generous
Mar 30, 2021
Paths
By Robert Tosi — No one noticed that the lights were on. No one noticed that the plumbing worked, the supermarket was stocked, the church
Mar 11, 2021
Birthday Eight
By J Snow — No presents, no birthday cake, no streamers or balloons, I push scraps of last night's boiled chicken dinner around in my bowl—
Feb 13, 2021
Walk
By Philip Berry — A murdered tree throws splayed roots in welcome, the grain revealed in a lightning rent swerves and curls in ways that
Jan 20, 2021
High Abuse
By Gary Beck — I once dreamed of a land, where all were free, with equal opportunity. Grade school cured me of that. As I grew up, prejudice
Nov 29, 2020
Eventually, I Stopped Stretching
By Annie Sisson — Strangely, when you’ve lived inside dark cells for so long, you forget what fresh air and sunlight feel like on your face
Nov 6, 2020
Unchecked Ordinary
By Rebecca Arnold — I barely remember before each puking episode, but I definitely remember after. The custodian with his can of kitty
Oct 27, 2020