by Rebecca Givens
Everyone is alive now no one is dead
Most of the people you know
Most of the others have left for Romania
by Reginald Shepherd
I stow this moment with all the other baggage
too heavy to be carried or left
behind. Roadside church sign says “The Lord
is the Lord who made us the way we are us.”
He scatters the remnants and collects
them at a later date (unspecified) . . .
by Michael Borich
an aria in the dark room the mother’s body
lay within: staccato shrills like the flight
of a small bird a soul might become.
by Dev Hathaway
I don’t know for sure how long I have. Twelve months, two years. Depends on the treatment. Being low prognosis but still pretty healthy, I made a clinical trial and got lucky in my draw. Have both drugs, the old and the new. Two others in my boat, the Renal Carcinoma, came out with one each to keep the study in thirds. The old works for 15–20 percent. The new might be better. In eight weeks we’ll see how our luck really runs, who stays afloat.
Previous selections Browse editions Newer Selections