On:

She stared at me with her marble eyesand knotted my heart so tightit turned to splintered stone—pieces pierced my souland turned it as well.Then—now, I am alone–unmarked graniteabove a grave not yet dug. Lynette G. Esposito, MA Rutgers, has been published in Poetry Quarterly, North of Oxford, Twin Decades, RememberedContinue Reading

On:

The dark nightstreams filaments of her indigo curlsacross the frosty sky.Embellished with stars,loosened locks showerthe late evening with tiny interwoven knotsthreading the curved dome tightly together. The translucent plaits seem to shiverin the crisp air. I walk home not minding my path— look up– watch,waitfor one to unravel or toContinue Reading

On:

My muses have amusing waysof teasing me on silent daysby giving me no words to writeuntil I try to sleep at nightthen hide the notepad I keep nearand dry my pen so that no tearof ink will cry upon the page,thus leaving me a nightmare’s ragewhich twists my dreams inContinue Reading

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My stepson only eats hamburgersand fries. And chicken nuggets.Nary a vegetable or piece of fruit. And whydoesn’t he get scurvy and die? He never goes outside. Zeroexposure to the sun. Just stays in his roomplaying video games all day. And whydoesn’t he get rickets and die? Just look at hisContinue Reading

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With both hands reach into middle schoolUse one thumb to hold off effervescenceWhile the other digs around the backyardLooking for your eye that went missingThat one August after the car accidentWrap the main sheet around your palmThree times then shift your perspectiveWhile you watch your brother sail throughThe finish lineContinue Reading

On:

Eugene & EugeniaOn their honeymoonFinally entwinedIn the ampersandWhich separatedThe italic letteringOf their namesOn wedding invitationsSupersedeThe eugenics initiativesOf sansevieria-tongued mothers-in-lawEugenia’s ovumA planet-sized Gordian KnotWhich Eugene’s spermatozoonPierces like Alexander’s swordTo procreate the jejune EuphrosyneWho nonetheless will evolve rapidlyTo befriend textile and tektiteBoth terrestrialAnd extraterrestrial textsWho eschewing Iphigenian virtuesAn Aegean Agamemnon’sDrunken narcissistic bluesWillContinue Reading

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A scar, a scoreit spews, egg-white from satin blueinfinitude, idly sliced throughby some passenger, determined voyager. So quickly, it fadesrippling, the threadreknits, repaired.The dream is whole again.And of the voyager nothing remainsbut a gentle crease along the waves. Kai Broach writes fiction and poetry. Their work has appeared in JeopardyContinue Reading

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The Last Train is sleeping now,her keeper has locked her safely away.The last drinkers have left the pub,and are watching the driftas their unsteady walkguides them home.The rain keeps me company,as does the Hedgehogthat slowly crosses my path,he is a spiky footballwith a mind of his own.The last Train driverContinue Reading

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“Definitely, I must have a mystic connection with cats,” Ming concluded. Otherwise, he could never understand why he’d nurtured such a strong ambivalence about the creature. On the one hand, he liked a cat’s handsome face, its quiet character, its soft and light movements as well as its grooming habit,Continue Reading

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Icarus had told Eeyore they could never be friends‘Eeyore, I am not like you, not like you at all,I have no time for self-pity, no time to stop and stare,I need to build these wings and take to the air. Eeyore had felt sad.He knew that Icarus saw the skyContinue Reading