|
CHEATERS (3)
by Michael Lee Johnson I am tired of cheaters online, weary eyed crossword players complicated chest moves drift dancers, lies, laid soft peddle, shared pillow, dark closet dreamers. Campaign gossip whispers, infidelity, sex objects shoved up orifices in open or private places. Sex shops open late, consummation nightclubs, cities dark corners. Two doctrines of selfishness you should know about penises and affairs most are short. Flesh and fights, scabs, cheaters in the night. |
TÊTE-À-TÊTE IN THE SAFEWAY AISLE by Christian DeLaO |
|
FAMILY VISIT
by David Thornbrugh About the warring toilets and the danger to the children, the less said the butter and the bread. Under the sheets in the eyes of the neighbors like a birthday cake frosted in sea foam. Not to be a floor show is a low bar of desire. We could make love under the sheets or start a war while the cameras run down the stairs and the surly child says "I'm not sure I like you." There are no arguments under the sheets we can't settle by smashing the neighbors' telescopes taking advantage of our windows. I could call you curtains and draw you closed but that would block the light of reason under the sheets, the blood red sheets that hide all errors. Some days, feeling smug is all I'm good for. |
WHATEVER by Ruben Briseno Reveles |
|
AND ONLY INFREQUENTLY
by Holly Day We exchange pictures through the mail because words aren't good enough. The passage of time is explained through the faces of strangers, in the pictures of children only known in person as tiny, warm babies coiled and asleep, newly born. The envelopes also contain pictures of people I know but older, grayer, tired. My sister's gap-toothed smile has been replaced by the tight grin of a woman with perfect teeth standing next to her own family – her goofy college sweetheart is now a man holding hands with a toddler. I put pictures of me, my children, their father in a similar envelope seal it without looking without wanting to look still in denial that time has passed at this end as well. |
CITY AND MEN'S by Katy Brown |
|
HALF LOVE
by Adam Phillips they cut you off of me – lightning twitched in a hot black sky – the face of the sky snarled – He wrapped a strop around my heart, threw it like a stone – my heart tumbled slowly, a stone through blood, for you my missing half, I spun with one big eye, half lips, I dread to think what you may have been going through. Somehow, I traveled a great distance to a swamp – I sat, my half, watching lightning strike germs into fish and fish into men – The gods felt bad. I heard half my name. You had a son – I had another one – The sky unfurled and slapped the ground – an altar, a cistern, a man in a robe the light shone on – I felt exposed, my half, my bad side – your half of the universe called my name – I fought through a cloud – where did all these people come from – my hair burned – I kicked in the air. you were a blade fulgurating on the horizon – my story has gone on too long |
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5
home | Table of Contents | archive