Mary Panke, Two Poems

Forget the Snail
Mary Panke

Maybe depression is the color of biology,
painted on genes like green-brown eyes
or chalk-blue streaks, blurred by staying under
water too long. Or olive-grey lichens clinging
to oaks, their leaves mothers’ hands calling
you back to shore, while you drift and drift, numb
in the salty sling of the tide, Continue reading “Mary Panke, Two Poems”

Philip Athans, Spring•Summer 2017

Just Exactly Like
Philip Athans

“What’s this?” she said after she’d crossed right in front of him.

He didn’t really think she wanted to know the name of the movie she’d momentarily interrupted but still he said, “The Vampire Bat.”

There was, of course, no reaction, just the sound of her opening a cabinet in the kitchen then the refrigerator. Continue reading “Philip Athans, Spring•Summer 2017”

Bob Beagrie, Winter 2017

Two Poems by Bob Beagrie

At Odds
Bob Beagrie

When there’s no hope of a phone signal
and I know, if there was, you wouldn’t pick up,
these are the things I can use to call you:
the mat of moss sighing damp over a tumble of rocks
among an oak’s exposed roots beneath dripping branches,
the wind, carrying threads of fret into a white sky, Continue reading “Bob Beagrie, Winter 2017”

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