Lab(orare est orare)

by Peg Duthie Accessible version: Lab(orare est orare) Cleaning glass with clammy hands, coaxing clues onto whiteboards — on we press: oncological hide-and-seek. ©2018 by Peg Duthie Peg Duthie would like you to visit her home in cyberspace: http://zirconium.dreamwidth.org. Advertisements

what cotton candy tasted like in 2004

by William Bortz before summer left that year it gave me a wet kiss and my hair is still matted like dew-soaked grass and July is just another day at the carnival dusk is patient and slow to fade sitting idly just below the crest of low hills keeping the color in the clouds from…

Oh

by Greg Hill Accessible version: Oh for all the world, so few could solve my riddled heart as you ©2018 by Greg Hill Greg Hill is a writer and voice-over talent in West Hartford, Connecticut, where he spends evenings composing little tunes for his daughters, who are too young to know how poorly their father…

It was close

by F.J. Bergmann If I’d gotten hay for the horses from another farm If I’d been able to pay cash instead of working in the field If you hadn’t lost your balance and sat down just before the truck went under the bridge If you’d never left Milwaukee If he hadn’t left me If the…

Body Polychrome

by Ahimaz Rajessh Accessible version: Body Polychrome shades of garment lapse of instants shades of light compose her …now brown … now wheatish now black … now goldish… tones ©2018 by Ahimaz Rajessh Lately published in 200 CCs, Flapperhouse, Pidgeonholes, theEEEL & Strange Horizons, Ahimaz Rajessh (@ahimaaz) has writing upcoming in Milkfist and 7×20.

Flipper

by Austin Davis It’s almost too much— the way she holds my hand on raw December mornings even when her nails camouflage with the frost kissed grass. The sleeves slip from the dark blue sweater she wears of mine and her hands lose their fingers, evolving into little penguin flippers. The sweater is four sizes…

Bird House Blind

by M.R. Baird I dwell in a house that is not mine; milk snow, lake effect, eagle overhead flies on with outstretched wings, open eyed, above the blinds, my hands grasping, the cold, trees fall, weather comes in again. This house is full of birds landing, temporary stop, then go, look over me to the…

The Great Shearwater

by Kelly R. Samuels Great as in large, larger than the greedy sparrow, flick of seed, and the mourning dove. Larger than the chickadee, white-capped, chipper. We’re speaking of birds, you and I — a kind of communion. Something that binds. How you learned their calls, their songs, as a girl. Would stop on the…

Everglades at Dusk

poem by John Grey Heron steps nimbly across a floating mangrove island of dangling roots and minnow cloisters, more blue in its wings than in the darkening sky. Swamp smells like a deer carcass in broth, seethes with heat and insects and a fading sun tangled in thick vine. By the old moss-eaten fishing shack,…

Alliance

by Indira Leisba You looked at me seeing more than a little girl with scared eyes and nervous smile. Tú me miraste y viste en mi más que una niñita con unos grandes ojos asustados, y una sonrisa nerviosa. You saw my future, my hunger for learning my desire to read books by myself. Tú…

Artem Almae

(The Art of Nurturing / El arte de nutrir)by Indira Leisba You know everything about her, Tu lo sabes todo acerca de ella, but forget how she looks. pero haz olvidado como se ve. You smile at her, yet see a stranger Tu le sonríes a ella, sin embargo, es como ver a un extraño…

I wonder what you see…

#WonderFold is a monthly feature that includes a prompt-based writing challenge one month, followed by the publication of a winning response the next month.