I saw a woman Crucifix about her neck Christ’s head a diamond D. A. Hosek’s poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Meniscus, California Quarterly, Rat’s Ass Review, I-70 Review and elsewhere. He earned his MFA from the University of Tampa. He lives and writes in Oak Park, IL and spends his days as an insignificant cog in the machinery of corporate America. More at http://dahosek.com. Featured Artwork: Dreams Elinora Westfall is a British writer of stage, screen, fiction, and …
Wife #2 was sweeping the small bedroom when she found the magazine. A woman with long blond hair adorned the cover. A short yellow dress hugged her body, and her teeth were unnaturally white. They were not allowed magazines. Her first instinct was to turn in Wife #3, but then she remembered what He had told them about reacting hastily. Plus #3 was new, young. Maybe she should give her a chance. So instead she closed the door, sat on the bed, and opened the magazine. # At dinner, Wife #2 …
Later, the birds would find what I’d planted in crooked bins before it could die of thirst. That’s the thing about birds. I put out a feeder, and they littered my balcony with seeds, squabbled like downstairs neighbors come the first. The little ones drove off the pretty ones. I was happy just to watch and pretend I was mayor of Feather Town, but I was more like the janitor. I saw a woman walking in long squares around the parking lot every day, fists up. I wanted to tell her no one …
The three of them were having a dinner party in honor of Sarah’s fiancé leaving her, eight months ago that Monday. It was the first cold night in November, and Max and Tessa wore doubled-up socks inside their apartment. He cooked steaks on the stovetop, in a frying pan, using a fork to turn the big pieces of meat. She tossed potato wedges with cream and cheddar cheese. “What can I do?” Sarah sat …
after a line by Hafizah Geter January. You left your apartment in Cincinnati—all that light, its wide windows, its clean kitchen, its full-belly fridge—and met me halfway up Route 27. It was night by then, and I drove down from Oxford, leaving my place—its hollow door, empty cupboard, matted shag carpet. The road was two-lane, and we must have each pulled off to the side, and I must have gotten in your car. Like so much of the year I was twenty-seven, that part is hazy. You kept the heat on …
passion-forged flowers amongst midnight skies1 – fire lookouts press onto rock tips2 – stones imitate fervent postures3 – rose-curved bellies hold back unchaste4 – horns rip sheets while sleeping5 – fingertips graze in the middle of night.6 1 Should we pluck – 2 Should we prepare – 3 Should we negotiate – 4 Should we vault – 5 Should we lock – 6 Should we confess – Laura Titzer is an avid tea drinker, hiker, rummaging cyclist, poetry/nonfiction writer and facilitator of …