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Poems
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THE BEAR IN THE WHEELCHAIR
The bedside window is cracked a little, for fresh air presumably, and a lopsided venetian blind bangs softly in a
Michael Van Walleghen
Riddle
The chair is not far from the bed
Norman Dubie
Memorial Bench
Suzanne and Half Zantop loved sitting here—
Joyce Peseroff
SPITE FENCE | THE HUMAN CANARY
My neighbor forced his abutter
John Skoyles
The Dog Days of August and Elaine’s Story
What huge effort to move through
Alice Friman
Little Pea: A Brief Portfolio
Sometimes I think I shouldn’t write about my past.
Nin Andrews
The Only One
In the stories of old there were always three.
Nin Andrews
A Habitation of Jackals, a Court for Ostriches
Very dark now I put a seed in my mouth but its texture and taste
Timothy Donnelly
Essay: Domestic
Brassiere
Chelsea Wagenaar
I Can’t Tell If the Light Is Whispering “Loss” in My Ear or Imprinting Darkness on My Body
At the last house,
Chris Vasantkumar
The Beginner
Doesn’t have a clue, sips whiskey in a train
Sigman Byrd
I’m a Witch!
It is standard for women
Christopher Crawford
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