|
BANKING MIDNIGHT
by Melissa Donovan Leaves twist in the autumn breeze, tortured servants of the season. They still on winter's first chill night, ice hinting at the edge of a sharp star. Shadows lengthen, light posts awaken, just a flicker in the fog. The pads of the wolf's paws are silent on pavement, quiet as nature's blink. He wanders the streets in his mangled coat, blood warming his teeth the way fresh sex tastes like copper and earth. Tender foe, he curls in the snow, a hot whisper in the freeze. |
MY FEET & HANK'S FOOT by Allyson Seconds |
| YOU ARE NOT THE MOON
by Melissa Donovan I've been sucking on American Spirits through the night you abandoned, like a star trails fading into the tar-sky. You are not the steady moon you claim to be watchful, reluctantly circling. Wretched winter broke the spell icy dawn slipped between my sheets where the hours creaked my eyes cracked against the breaking snow-light. |
SUN THROUGH FENNEL by Allyson Seconds |
|
AT THE CHURCH OF WINTER
by Anara Guard In January's deepest night we dream of peaches and weep when the clock wakes us. The gulls slow, the frozen air too dense for their wings to slice through, their bodies heavy with chill. At the bus stop, no one speaks. We huddle like bison in our shaggy robes withdrawing from the wind. Skin shrinks against cold clothes, bones contract in flesh, eyeballs recoil from frosted lids. And deep within our coats, we bow, sending foggy breath into our own hearts praying for warm air, wincing as we promise not to forget the blessings of July. |
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5
home | Table of Contents | archive