By Polly Mayforth Krause

I’m starting to piece my past together

And at this point

I’m wondering

If my past should have been left in pieces

When I open up the wounds of my past

I suffer again

Having gained an understanding of why I suffered

It’s painful

But worth the pain

I think

Understanding leads to forgiveness and healing

Healing is about wholeness

It’s about picking up the pieces

And putting them back together

One shard at a time

Fashioning something new

That glitters

When the light hits the jagged edges


The House Plant


By Ian Fletcher

House plants are odd
for though some thrive
relatively neglected
others will not survive
despite the attention
administered to them.

Who’d have thought
for that matter
the one we bought
to adorn our balcony
whose flowers faded
according to the season
but whose leaves then
withered without reason
to languish out there
with stems so bare
winter through spring
despite our tender care
would prove to be the latter?

So it is with our love, my dear,
which like the plant outside
howsoever it is now tended
can never be revived.

Ian Fletcher’s work has appeared in Tuck Magazine, The Ekphrastic Review, 1947 A Literary Journal, Spillwords Press, Dead Snakes, Literary Yard, Your One Phone Call, Schlock! Webzine, Short-story.me, Anotherealm, Under the Bed, A Story In 100 Words, Poems and Poetry, Friday Flash Fiction, and various anthologies.

Twilight Star


By Sandywilson1950

A blackbird embroiders the dusk
with song, to the background thrum
of sluggardly traffic homeward bound.
A bee on its last shift of the day
flits among the flowers as petals fold.
A star takes shape in the horizons haze.
A pulse of light that has traveled
through space for three millennia.

In the twilight I watch and wonder.
When the starlight began its voyage
did Pharaohs walk in the shadows
of the columns of Luxor, while slaves
labored to build their tombs.

Three thousand years from now
will there be a twilight watcher?

“They Knew What They Signed up For”


By Robert Krenzel

They knew what they signed up for.

The young man signed up to protect and defend. He knew there would be a price to pay. He knew, perhaps this would be the day.

The young woman signed up to love and support her man. She knew he would go away and perhaps not return. She knew the knock on the door might come that day.

They knew what they signed up for.

You wanted loyalty. You wanted adoration. Who knew you were supposed to care?

They knew what they signed up for.
Did you?

Bob Krenzel is a veteran of the Balkans, Iraq, and Afghanistan. He has been the soldier who knocks on the door to bring the news.

Fata Morgana


By Stevieslaw

That’s me I see in the distance,
upheld by an inverted sky
preternaturally twirling and twisting
to the throb of an unwritten psalm.
I float in the sorcerer’s future
a smudge on the frightening sky
spinning faster and faster and faster
till I blink and the mirage is gone.
Steve Deutsch writes poetry, and short fiction. His most recent publications have been in Word Fountain, Eclectica Magazine, The Ekphrastic Review, New Verse News, and Misfit Magazine.

Old Love Letters


By John Grey

frayed yellowing testimonials
to long neglected innocence
pressed sadly to the lips
while crumbling in the fingers

her color
in all directions

a high wire
greeting card
of crows

when there’s no one else
the city must be my lover –
in lieu of flesh
I stroke the darkness

John Grey’s work has recently appeared in The Tau, Studio One and Columbia Review. He has work upcoming in Naugatuck River Review, Examined Life Journal and Midwest Quarterly.



By Jacob

Philosophy, theology, gods, God, love
Hearts pump blood, disregarding the soul
You can’t write these things down
Much less understand them
Cue existential crisis
A month of oversmoking Marlboro Golds
And drinking God knows how many pots of coffee

So show me loggers cutting down forests
And sandstorms burying ancient cities
Built by forgotten peoples to please forgotten gods
In fifty thousand years, Niagara Falls will erode away to bedrock
And biology will evolve into Intel-powered digital organisms where
Faulty biological memories of love, God, death, etc.
Are heavily edited and stored in stunning 4k HD