"Emboli" by Jennifer Phipps
Last weekend you wore long, loose shorts. Your workout clothes— billowing, breathable black t-shirt and those silky, baggy shorts—obstructed my view. I’d wanted to see your legs. But when I say your legs, you know what I really mean. I wanted to see your thighs. We exchanged details about our son, but then you left.
"Clouds" by Amanda Span
My father could
burn holes in the clouds
with the power of his mind:
Watch, he says,
"Water in the Desert" by Clare Wilson
“I can see it—” Eva said. “How the skywill stretch like a blue sheet between the peaks.”
"Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation" by Katherine Fallon
Heather, in your dream my loved ones were dunking and holding me underwater as treatment. Everyone, you say, seemed to believe this was a good idea. In truth, your dream was not so much a dream.
"Aubergine" by Cara Lynn Albert
“His name is Eggplant,” said John as we examined his dying fish inside the large aquarium in the middle of his living room. This was before we started dry humping on his couch, but after he confessed to me that he was a convicted felon.
"Where Deer Sleep" by George Payne
My three-year-old son
asked me where deer sleep.
So I took him into a space
that is not meant for fathers
and sons.
"I Will Return" by Samantha Kolesnik
I tell myself the trail is an amenity. It’s not something to be feared; it’s a blessing. Aprivilege. When my single friends from apartments downtown come over, they first comment on my pregnant belly and then on the trail.
"Return to Sender" by Natalie Homer
My doe with the limp is one fawn short since spring.
Some time later, in the low moan of a snowstorm
she canters back to the woods, alone.