by Dorothy Barresi
I don’t look at my face
in the mirror much anymore.
It has its life, I have mine.
by Andrew Berthrong
You could say he chose me, although perhaps I was in the mood to be chosen. He came out of nowhere, and I was swept up. But I was concerned about things too: Lola’s recent desertion, the state of my heart, my aching tooth. And so on.
by Jeffrey Hammond
When I was a child in the late 1950s, the streetlights ended two blocks before our neighborhood on the edge of our small Ohio town. Given the midwestern custom of early dinners, my friends and I often played outside afterward. On dark, moonless nights in late fall and winter, familiar yards were transformed into mysterious black voids relieved only by trash burning here and there in an oil drum.
by Sandra Beasley
The navel corresponds to the omphalos.
A corner corresponds to a right angle.
A spoon corresponds against its bowl—
curve to curve, an efficiency of emptying.
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