as you tip your hat to the sea, / the ashes of romance spilling / out, having climbed your last balcony
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Testimonial by Sean J. White
I admit my limits and my own smoke
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114, 000 Units Sold: At Every Stoplight, I’m Watching for One by Mandy L. Rose
I hear my children in the backseat, reading the numbers and letters out loud, recognizing whether the car we can’t stop watching belongs to their father.
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Touch Me, Baby by Joe Bonomo
Shuffling through a box of old 45s is like letting fistfuls of soil leak through your fingers. Organic matter, minerals, microbes all seem present on vinyl and worn labels, the grooves veritable garden rows. Heft, ballast, stuff in my hands.
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Two Poems by Tina Mozelle Braziel
Something in a pelican reminds me / of a woman who knows she’d look regal / if only she can keep her skirt down.
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Selections from Babyland By Hadara Bar-Nadav
The walls at the infertility clinic are lined with babyheads. Thousands and thousands of babyheads.
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Two Poems by Guillermo Filice Castro
On the first day of the New Year
I got a taste
of what my heart thirsts for,
iron now laced with apple.
IN THE SHADOW OF THE MIDDLE KINGDOM By Kayo Chang Black
When I was 18, I crashed my car for the third time. My mother shook her head and said, “I should have listened to the fortune teller. He did tell me not to let you drive."
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Contagion by Mary Mandeville
Before, we knew where he was. This time, birth mom also had no idea; he’d run away from us all.
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Beauty by Steven Kleinman
A little spittle of pink
fell from the bag of organs
High Mom by Danielle Privitera
When my son is old enough, he won’t care, because it saved our family.
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Cannibal by Jennifer Sinor
I am eating myself, slowly, from the outside in. Salted skin and blood.
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What to Look for by Cassandra Rockwood-Rice
You’d pull a jackknife from your / shirt pocket and shave the bark, shallow then deep
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Shock, Honey by Megan Goss
Mother tries to talk, to reassure her eighteen-month-old daughter, but she can’t get her voice loud enough. Baby’s wails keep cutting out.
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Contrition is possibly for fools by Mercedes Lawry
Nothing is better / than sleep, where you’re anchored. / Otherwise, you tell yourself little / spoonfuls of facts about this life.
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Siento By Sarah Capdeville
I forgot, when it came down to it, that I existed.
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1989 by Lee Ware
My mother always says: I wish you would have known your father before the accident.
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Eclogue Domestica by Samuel Piccone
I don’t tell you how much it hurts when you finally open / your blouse and speak of tiny bones—
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Three Poems by Rick Bursky
We take turns dying. / Goddamn it, I think to myself, goddamn it.
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Just Waiting on a Dude by Michael McAllister
He pats the bed and you slide in. You follow his lead—you always will.
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