#14 Fall•Winter 2017

Continue reading “#14 Fall•Winter 2017”

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Michael T. Young, Evidence of Things Unseen

Evidence of Things Unseen
Michael T. Young

At first a scratch behind the wall.
Swelling pipes? Then
streamers of insulation
behind the toilet, frayed
carpet threads near baseboard molding.

Refresh the traps, clean out
the old peanut butter bait,
green and hard in the bowls.

Rats take days to grow comfortable
with changes in the room.
But on a rainy night,
when there’s little to feed on, a snap
in the dark. In the morning, I find
the limp, mud-colored
body of our suspicions.

There’s relief, an easing of defenses, Continue reading “Michael T. Young, Evidence of Things Unseen”

Steven Concert, Sunset at Times Square

Sunset At Times Square
A Villanelle
Steven Concert

Reflecting in the setting sun,
mannequins in quiet repose
while bodies crash in unison.

So hurriedly the people run
to destinations no one knows.
Reflecting in the setting sun,

where elegance is mixed with fun,
white limousines in lengthy rows
while bodies crash in unison.

Where gridlock fights the engine’s gun,
the burning fuel assaults the nose.
Reflecting in the setting sun,

the city rhythms beat as one.
Broadway shines, its radiance grows
while bodies crash in unison. Continue reading “Steven Concert, Sunset at Times Square”

Michelle Reale, Liberation Army

Liberation Army
Michelle Reale

Well, you know, it’s really been, you know, quite a trip for me.
—Patty Hearst

Everything pointed to survival. I was Patty Hearst with a loaded gun,
but really, more like meringue: all flourish with little substance.

The cinnamon I craved was dark as peat, still, I sprinkled it over everything.
My task was subjective. I tied the Gordian knot and focused on digestion.

The suppression of the lump in my throat was a collaborative effort.
My peripheral vision has failed me more than once, my words concise in a clutch. Continue reading “Michelle Reale, Liberation Army”

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