Fiction    Reading Room    Memoir    Interview

Missive

My everything I say but don’t be silly.
How could everything possibly be mine?
The future’s on her belly in the dust
Laying for the stagecoach sweet-talking the scope.
The past? Don’t let me catch that sniveling
Misnomer here. From now on I’m calling her
The gone as in in the gone I could not know
To hold you. If you were my and I your charge
A life before as well I hope at least
I had a fabulous hat and a language
With which to say believe me. Maybe no stranger
Than stepping from one room into another.
Maybe I thirst. I’ll drink to in and out
Of breath to excess to your last ash.
Tale too tall for me to tiptoe reach
The top shelf bottle there with our name on it.
I don’t need to spill it spell it out.
You know our name by now don’t you? My love
As a prescribed burn a this hurts me more than
A cause the cone to open. Welter swelter
Split the deck of cards. Can’t predict king
Or jack but that you’ll pull the black and I
The redder riddles. If you are reading this
You can’t be nearly close enough to me.
 
Poetry
Johanna Aitchison
Michele Amas
Angela Andrews
Sarah Barnett
David Beach
Ken Bolton
Jenny Bornholdt
Rachel Bush
Mary Cresswell
Stephanie De Montalk
Cliff Fell
Tom Fitzsimons
Brian Flaherty
David Geary
Bernadette Hall
Kerry Hines
Andrew Johnston
Therese Lloyd
Iggy McGovern
Mary Macpherson
Dora Malech  
Vana Manasiadis
Emma Neale
Gregory O'Brien
Lucy Orbell
Zach Savich
Charlotte Simmonds
Marty Smith
Elizabeth Smither
Abby Stewart
Robert Sullivan
Jo Thorpe
Cath Vidler
Louise Wallace
Ashleigh Young

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