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Will Wright

Judy Mehl


Kim Malinowski

He anoints my feet 
with olibanum
thumbs hard.
Three strokes of myrrh
across my breast.
Life. Death. Rebirth.
We fall together in the ancient way
until the stars blur.

Death is coming.
Soon I will massage myrrh into cold skin,
easing wrinkles, shining the skin,
preparing for the gods.
He cups my hand.
A palm to his chest,
feeling the pounding of his heart.
Lips tickling my neck
as we beat back death.
It won’t capture either of us tonight.

In the end, I want no tubes.
I want to glisten with oils
and breathe in the hard scent of myrrh.
Let it sing me down.
I want rose and jasmine too,
honeysuckle, every scent of life,
so that even as I inhale death,
I exhale life.

When it is my turn,
who will keep the old ways?
How will I smell of spicy musk and love?
Will the stars dress me in lace
and whisper me into the skies?

Kim Malinowski earned her B.A. at West Virginia University and her M.F.A. at American University. She is currently a student of The Writers Studio. She has a forthcoming chapbook Death: A Love Story, from Kind of a Hurricane Press. Her work has appeared in Souvenir and Mad Poets Review, and is forthcoming from War, Literature, and the Arts, and others.


Don Hogle

Mr. Clean wipes away the children’s
handprints with a swipe of his Magic
Eraser, then winks at us, as if to say,
They’re just kids. And we forgive
their painted palms and the wormy dirt
of their play, because their laughter,
rippling through the labyrinth
of laundry on the lines, reminds us that
life not only continues, but persists.

Read more here . . .

Don Hogle  is a poet, blogger (dhogle.wordpress.com) and brand and communications strategist living in Manhattan.  Mud Season Review, Minetta Review, Blast Furnace, Shooter, Clapboard House and DoveTales from Writing for Peace are among the journals that have published his poetry recently.

Give Me Your Hand

John Mueter

Tamsen Boucher put the spinach soufflé in the oven, very carefully, at exactly twelve forty-five. It was an audacious decision, perhaps a foolhardy one. She was well aware that a successful soufflé is a matter of perfect timing, a tricky business, and that this one would be done and ready to serve in just thirty-five minutes. As she shut the oven door Tamsen closed her eyes and sent out an appeal to the universe, wishing fervently that the luncheon would be a success. Her husband had driven to the airport to pick up their weekend guest. As Craig was all but useless in the kitchen anyway, the job of chauffeur fell to him. The car would be pulling into the driveway in about ten minutes, if all went according to plan. If they were late, the soufflé would be a disaster.

Read more here . . .

John Mueter is an educator, pianist, vocal coach, composer and writer. His compositions have been performed in the US and Europe. His short fiction has been published in various journals, such as American Atheneum, Bibliotheca Alexandrina, Halfway Down the Stairs, Deep Water Literary Journal and the Lowestoft Chonicle. He currently teaches at the University of Kansas.

Goodbye Silver Fox

Jennifer Herald

He held me close to him, a hard, heavy hug, clasped tightly together; we held it for just a beat longer than normal until we pulled apart. Usually he would tell me he loved me and was proud of me but today, today he went off-script.

“You know, I’ve always admired how you can always get yourself out of a situation my girl--you can go out and get yourself another job and not miss a beat,” he said.

Read more here . . .

Jennifer Herald has always loved reading and writing; they have been her lifeline. She has been teaching English since 2011 and is working on her PhD at the University of Cincinnati. She lives in Kentucky with her husband and two amazing daughters.