by Ron De Maris
Tonight she has brought an offering, a mouse
freshly killed. Cat symmetry includes
the blood of others, her beauty
evolved to stun her prey like a tourist
standing before the Pietà.
by Steve Orlen
If you watch them from the far side of the bar, you might think,
By the quick slashes of expostulation and the table-banging of reply,
That they’re arguing. The waitress guesses it’s football, or their wives.
The old gods hear the words good and evil, and pause in their roaming, . . .
by Deborah Flanagan
In fifth grade I drew sexy pictures for my friends;
the sexual act consists of a man in a fancy tuxedo,
sitting next to a woman in a black negligee
and silk stockings on a flowered couch.
I sold the drawings to my friends for a quarter.
by Susan McCallum-Smith
A year after my parents separated, I saw my father on the other side of a narrow street. He walked straight by without any gesture of greeting. No one else was around. It dawned on me, after a second or so, that he hadn’t recognized me. I hadn’t changed from a goose to a swan, or some such nonsense, I had simply had a haircut and stopped dressing like a boy. . . . I paused, aware that I felt nothing more than an aloof curiosity, and watched him walk away. If I were fanciful I would say that this was the moment I became a writer.
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