Loaded
By Patricia MonaghanThey were always taught that all guns were loaded.
It was a way, he said, to keep them safe.
Don't you notice, he said, how people get shot
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‘N’em
By Jericho BrownThey said to say goodnight
And not goodbye, unplugged
The TV when it rained. They hid
Hearing of Alia Muhammed Baker’s Stroke
By Philip MetresHow a Basra librarian
could haul the books each night,
load by load, into her car,
Community
By Emily K. BrightIt is nearly midnight and I'm
scrubbing at the grout.
The dishes, washed,
Cerberus
By Beth CopelandWhat do the howling hounds hear that we can't?
The moon sharpens its sword on the Earth's stone.
Palm trees on the shores of the Tigris stand sentinel,
Red-Tailed Hawk
By Patricia MonaghanJust past dawn in early fall,
a sparrow screamed at me
as I walked into the woods.
Postmark from the Transition
By Rachel M. Simonthe name altered from parent's choosing
the threshold of a home
white gloves on the windowsill
Prayer at Plymouth Church
By Margaret RozgaLet there be drums and harps,
piccolos and flutes, violins,
banjos and guitars.
Margins
By Heather HolligerShe and I, our silences,
hesitations--at the grocery store,
in the taxi, on the street.
poppies are not (Enough
By Daniela ElzaI drink a blood sunset down Cardinal Avenue.
my shoes soaked poppies my mind quiet as
a book with a bomb in its mouth.