Lady K, Marrakech

HAIKU

Sunset. Mama’s not
speaking to me, but I hear
her voice when I do.

Mary Weems

SHARD

I thought on her leaving and smelled the musk
of grasshoppers held captive
in a mason jar

S B Smith

 

FROM FAREWELL TO THE AMERICAS, PART I

I found beneath the thorns
the bones of reddish people
clothed in Ohio
riverbed
crustacea
opalescent armors hiding secrets of the snail
murderous flints returned to rest
under maples forming gables in the wood
that bleed and weep their sap
down trunk
as insects
drunk
in gluey liqueur
test time with stillness
awaiting new epochs
to revive a skeletal twig

Dexter Zirkle