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Cliff Saunders
Dancing across the desert with a slender ballerina, I hear a voice whisper sister. The ballerina slips from my embrace and vanishes into a mirror half-buried in sand and cactus flowers. I try to follow, breaking the mirror with my first step. Its glass bleeds like skin. Brother. I hold my breath. Wind blows a…
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Bill Garvey
Toolsheds for Ted & Shelly My neighbor across the cove hauls gravel in a wheelbarrow from the mound at the end of his driveway to the section of lawn where the new toolshed will be built to replace the old. The cove is wide enough that I can’t see the gravel or the wheelbarrow, but…
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Leah Mueller
Conflagration It burns away eventually— projects we spend our lifetimes building, downtown edifices that once stood vigilant for patrons, their heavy doors flung open for the last time, then closed again. Inferno erupts through rooftops, long past midnight, when shopkeepers forget to pay attention. Too late now. Down the block, another structure scorched beyond recognition.…
