by Robert Beveridge
The heat of the melted wax
draws the splinters from your hands.
You had been holding the shaft
of the hammer when it slid.
The little knives went deep,
broke off. I dripped
gloves of wax
over your hands
and the splinters rose.
It was what you needed,
you said, and the wax on me
sank in, nestled itself
around my heart, drew out
Robert “Goat” Beveridge makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry in Akron, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in The Nixes Mate Review, Violet Rising, and The Road Less Travelled, among others.
by Fabrice Poussin
Once more she stands in the face of another soul
the smooth surface of century old looking glass
squinting at fragments of a self once whole.
The pulses in her breast beat inside the thin vessels
hovering timidly in the burning light of summer’s heat
she grasps only shards of her former thoughts.
when, little girl she pondered no such queries.
She may be that forgotten Renaissance girl in the attic
put to canvas by a hopeful lover from a distance
her fair complexion torn by the craquelure
at the jigsaw she has become to suspect so well.
Where does she begin, where are the boundaries
of so many parts in motion as she sits in fearful awe
sharp edges of the giggling teen she once was
cut deep at the dreams of a future she once fathomed.
Even the sorrow of a tear venturing down her lip
seems to break apart thus devoid of source or intent
her pain excruciating must remain hidden in her chest.
She is the kaleidoscope of her many dawns
a universe hoping to come together in a grand home
made of walls seamless of like a marble giant
idea of the child building days of carefree wisdom.
Fabrice Poussin teaches French and English at Shorter University. Author of novels and poetry, his work has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes, and dozens of other magazines. His photography has been published in The Front Porch Review, the San Pedro River Review and more than 350 other publications.
by Keelah Rose Calloway
He said “Marry me” and got down on one knee.
He opened a box, and inside was a rock.
When I said yes, I envisioned a dress,
Not a life as a wife always dealing with stress.
I thought of an aisle and everyone’s smiles,
Bouquets of bright flowers and fun bridal showers,
Not fighting and shouting for hours and hours.
So now we’re divorced, of course.
Keelah Rose Calloway is a writer, a stand-up comedian and a singer. Her first novel book is being published serially as an audiobook, and the first three chapters are available to hear now on Youtube. She is also now posting daily microfiction stories on Twitter @MissKeelahRose. For more information on her growing list of accomplishments, check her out on Facebook.
by Linda M. Crate
a song of flowers
a stormy sky
isn’t ready to leave behind
the fragrance of spring,
and all her warmth;
shivering and starving for light
we resent winter for holding on
but perhaps his last prayer
is that he be loved
for who he is.
Linda M. Crate is a Pennsylvanian native born in Pittsburgh yet raised in the rural town of Conneautville. Her poetry, short stories, articles, and reviews have been published in a myriad of magazines both online and in print. She has five published chapbooks A Mermaid Crashing Into Dawn (Fowlpox Press – June 2013), Less Than A Man (The Camel Saloon – January 2014), If Tomorrow Never Comes (Scars Publications, August 2016), My Wings Were Made to Fly (Flutter Press, September 2017), and splintered with terror (Scars Publications, January 2018).
by Tamera Patenaude
Thinking of you wherever you are,
That is what we have always said.
No matter how far away you are,
You are always in my head.
You asked me why I love you,
And I said I did not know.
But no matter what I say or do,
I could never let you go.
It has been eight and a half years now,
And you are still here by my side.
Over the years it has rung true,
You are my safest place to hide.
Whether you are right beside me,
Or sitting in the next room.
You brush away the tragedies,
And you always make me swoon.
Thinking of you wherever you are,
That is what we will always say.
But living in a world of depression,
We need to take this day by day.
Tamera Patenaude is a 25 year old Canadian writer, wife, student, artist, and volunteer. She recently joined a school choir and uses the arts as a coping mechanism to deal with her depression.