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Susan P. Blevins, an ex-pat Brit, lived in Italy for twenty-six years, traveled the world extensively, and has now settled in Houston, Texas, where she is enjoying writing stories and poems based on her travels and adventures. She had a weekly column on food in a European newspaper while livingContinue Reading

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There is nothing quite like the feel of fresh bloodDripping down the jowls of a greasy faceBacklit shadows dancing from peat moss burningNight; dark night looms so silently loudWhen the rushing rivers of your bloodRoar; drowning out the unspoken pitchLife has a way of becoming fever brightRight when that flameContinue Reading

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PADUA, ITALY 1844 Curious young scholar from NaplesWandered into a fertile private gardenHe first saw through his guest bedroom window.By an unusual purple shrub with botanical gems, an exquisite bloom stood Slender, alluring, barely comingInto womanhood. Her scent,Cloying like lavender. Her touch,Lethal like aconite. The maiden Her famous scientist fatherCalledContinue Reading

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Dandies moved into Peacock Lane & put a sexy leg lamp in their postage stamp bay window / The HOA was pissed but could hardly do a thing to stop gentlethems from erecting sexuality like a lacy middle finger / The chairwoman of the decoration subcommittee made salted pistachio brittleContinue Reading

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The Dandies bought the house from a nice goth couple who just couldn’t with Mrs. Peacock Lane / Her campaign against them also began on move-in day & they both worked so hard at keeping up their own appearances the decoration subcommittee took advantage of their missing cats to poisonContinue Reading

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Old hags fly through history. On the backs of their brooms, the inevitable black cat. Ninetimes witches change magically into sinuous feline form. In mothy blackness cats’ eyes burntopaz, blood-stained ruby. Familiars, whisper secret chants. Black rites are hidden indarkness. Freyja, goddess of death, drives her chariot over wintry skies.Continue Reading

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The chunk of flesh lies there.It’s pink and still,No longer throbbing or feeling.The thigh that birthed it is oozing,Pumping, still alive. The man sets the knife downAnd prepares the pan and herbs.Taken away from its origins,The meat is no more than a blob,A collection of cells,13,355 calories, more or less.Continue Reading

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First of all, Gina was not my cat. She was Melba’s, my landlady. She waited a month after her other cat, Chester had died. He was 15.Melba was 85 at the time. I was her tenant. We met at a senior center. I once mentioned needing a new place toContinue Reading

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my cat considersmy body a locationhome embraces him Aletha Irby is very grateful to have been granted this time, on this planet, to spend with the English language. Her personal library includes books of poetry, books about cats (fiction and nonfiction), history books, novels, short story collections, mysteries, horror stories,Continue Reading