Category Archives: 2013-edition

By Katie Kapugi She remembers the feel of her tiny son’s mouth sucking and tugging at her cracked flesh. While he nursed he scratched with tiny nails. Squeezing her breasts her husband whispers, how nice it is finally to be … Continue reading →

By Katie Kapugi  Whiskey in my glass– tiny icebergs click to the deep beat of some forgotten song that lures the lusty to grind their hips, to make come-hither eyes, and writhe with shock wave skin- every molecule pressured into … Continue reading →

By Katie Kapugi  Ankles fettered to twisted sheets, your inclination, the angle of your body in golden light, is slanted–
crossed by the crooked shadow of bent blinds,
A positive declination on a lumpy hotel mattress. You seem a creature distant, unscathed … Continue reading →

By Katie Kapugi  …and I forget again how precious- quick it ends
 how everything meant so much… our slowly sagging skin your crow-feet wrinkles one last sun-kissed cloud. Regret is just something I don’t do until I remember what I … Continue reading →

By Mike Beasley  Up stepped she and paid her fee, Thrusting with studied gravity Each carping coin into the fare box mouth. Ignoring other vacant seats, She chose the one in front of mine, The back of which I had … Continue reading →