Quilted
Robin Bradley Hansel September 27, 2024 3 Comments
Vit
il
I go.
I loved quilts until I became one.
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Often Described As
Sandi Stromberg June 14, 2024 4 Comments
the most terrible pain known to man,
trigeminal neuralgia
ricochets around my face, pulsing
electric-shocks. My doctor advises
cutting the nerve in my cheek, the only hope
of stopping the torture. He mentions
some patients consider
suicide. My husband has just revealed
Harvest
Allison C. Harrison May 24, 2024 3 Comments
In early morning appointments,
the doctor’s coat reeks of cigarettes
as he moves closer,
says “Scoot down,”
inserts the probe.
They want me to want my eggs
in case the treatment takes them—
to hold fast to the dream of a child
with my dimples and dark eyes.
The Bite
Claire Poole March 22, 2024 26 Comments
In the springtime, a zombie showed up,
breaking down our door and biting me.
Friends and neighbors asked questions,
not daring to come near,
leaving flowers, candles, baked goods
on our crooked stoop.
Prognosis
Ruth Bavetta March 1, 2024 6 Comments
Small birds teeter
on the wires by the feedstore.
Crows scatter broken seedpods
beneath the streetlight.
Flowering weeds crowd the dusty sidewalk,
sickly yellow or red as blood.
My Friend Sandy Has Ovarian Cancer Too
Laura Altshul October 27, 2023 4 Comments
She’d moved west to Seattle; by phone
we compare treatments, numbers,
chances.
Hanging on, she says: we are survivors.
Tinnitus
Gregory Luce September 15, 2023 14 Comments
Occasionally it sounds like
a cathedral tower full of bells
but usually it’s more like the last
scatter of cicadas at the end of summer,
an almost pleasant buzz and whirr,
Cultivation Also Starts With C
Jess Skyleson June 23, 2023 5 Comments
The eradication of non-native Fallopia japonica,
for all intents and purposes, must be considered a
practical impossibility. The aggressive nature of the
plant, combined with the similarly harmful side effects
of the removal options, renders it one of the most
devastating blights facing modern homeowners today.
Lake Michigan Sunset
Joy Gaines-Friedler May 12, 2023 15 Comments
Everything’s gone silent
as though a group of doctors has entered
the children’s ward.
Drone of water vehicles stowed,
a couple strolls the long edge of conversation.
Waves, like fear, have subsided—
only their small breaths remain.
Toxemia of Pregnancy
Joan Baranow June 10, 2022 5 Comments
There was the bed bent in half,
the needle in the wrist,
the crack of bathroom light under the door.
Your father tried to sleep in the hospital cot
Healing
Cheryl Byler Keeler May 20, 2022 No Comments
When I thought I might die,
not eventually, but very
soon, I treated me more kindly,
as if I were my own child,
the girl I was, and the woman
I am, all melded
Continent
Jenna Le January 14, 2022 3 Comments
Contact: from the Latin for touch.
Isolate: from the Latin for island.
Because your breath had touched mine,
I was obliged to metamorphose
into a separate land mass,
to wear a collar of brine
like a heavy gurgling yoke
