Hollow
by Victoria Melekian
I was lost and looking for my keys, for answers, for songs that tell me everything’s going to be all right. Hum a few bars and glide through the dark, past the exposed roots, all that anchored you to me: egg, skillet, stone. I still lock myself in the bathroom to cry. It would be different if you had died.
loneliness
a vast chasm
of broken pieces
by Norman Wm. Muise
Courtesies
by Toti O’Brien
Mondays
bring back routine
nets of safety
unlike Sylvia
I’d turn on ovens
on Sundays
to exhaust
fumes of emotion
end less hunger
Full Issue available on MagCloud
(click the cover to get a copy)
