Three Poems

Tadpole image by Skitterphoto via Pixabay

Image by Skitterphoto via Pixabay


“Carolee Bennett’s poems speak for the sandwich generation—those raising children while facing the loss of their parents. These poems evoke hope and bereavement in the same sweet breath.” ~ Poetry Editor Shaindel Beers

Read “blackbirds baked in a pie,” “Diving Horse,” and ” Exactly 299,792,458 Meters Per Second”


by Abby Minor

The bathroom must have been cold in winter—our house was heated by a woodstove, downstairs—but I remember it only in summer, the window open, a blue-green damp coming down off the Allegheny foothills. My mother’s silver rings in a little box, her cotton balls and talcum powder, the two knobs for water, hot and cold, […]

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Three True Stories

by Jennifer Delisle
Public domain photo by Icetsarina via flickr.

My child does not sleep, so I go walking with the bones of the dead. The stroller wheels click along the path, trees frame panes of light across the rows. The plots, green and even, are misnamed, trading stories for simple verse, for peace.

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Say Uncle

by Eugenio Volpe

Last day at Assumption. Bricking the belfry. Two hundred feet in the sky. It’s hard thinking up here. So I don’t. I do my job. One brick at a time. Some small talk with the young tenders. One of them got lucky last night. They chisel him for details, but he stays mum. He says […]

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Portraiture in Time

by Elizabeth Earl

1. Platitudes You never got tired of dressing up. Fingers familiar with the tired curvature of your hair, I run the tips of them over your shoulders and down the nape of your neck, once young. A blue bow used to hold the severity of your bun in place, constantly threatening to escape into chaos; […]

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Three New Stories

by Edward Mc Whinney
Lazy Hound Dog by Meaghan via Flickr (Creative Commons License)

Blue. The smell of bread turning to toast came in the open window and my bloodhound began to salivate. He took a turn by the door, fixing his eyes on me. When I bend down to tie my laces a searing pain in a lower disc ensures I straighten up slow, too slow for the […]

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Miss Bourgeois in the Pine Barrens

by Perdita Buchan

She was short, with frizzy hair, nicotine stained fingers, thick glasses and a leg brace from childhood polio. She wore mud colored tweed suits and always stood with one foot on the rung of her chair, holding grimly to the back of it as she talked. She was not the kind of person to control […]

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Three Poems

by Samuel Hovda
Planting by Samuel Hovda


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Fair-Weather Feminist

by Brynn Martin

I need to tell you something…

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