at the first trace of blue I wandered the unpaths, finding myself thoroughly lost in a gray spritz of rain, the cyan-stuccoed, faded lines of shopkeep homes shut before dawn, before the tourists shuffled off …
Corridors by Ken Brosky
Had she spoken too harshly? Had she accidentally told him to map pugmarks, or misspoken? No, don’t do that, she told herself. Don’t let him gaslight you.
The Third Date by Julie Wernersbach
The eggs come out of her mouth whole, one by one. Plain brown eggs, same as you’d buy at the supermarket. “Does it feel like they’re coming faster?” Belinda rocks forward at the kitchen table. Her long red hair swings, matted in chunks by whatever product held it in place for our date last night. Mousse, I’d guess, from the powdery smell of it in…
Marilyn Stablein’s Found-Object Assemblages
Marilyn Stablein is an artist and writer who creates assemblages from re-purposed and found objects. In her words, the objects’ origins are “unknown, unchartable. They evoke and personify mystery. Shape, form, condition, past function and new arrangements reveal, conceal, and evoke.” Stablein is the author of many books, including: Splitting Hard Ground: Poems (New Mexico Book Award); Bind, Alter, Fold: Artists Books; Sleeping in Caves: A…
The Silk Mothers by Mackenzie Bethune
I’m thinking of my own mother as I lay my children down in the incubator in the nursery. I can see their tiny bodies writhing beneath the filmy layer of the eggshell. We separated the black shells from yellow a few hours ago. Hal and I got into a fight about what to do with the ones that didn’t make it. He wrinkled his nose…