sprovence
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R. D. Martin, Little Red Riding Hood Is Done with Gaslighting
Rebecca D. Martin Little Red Riding Hood Is Done with Gaslighting Your rumination pathway, which is really a fear pathway, runs like a Slip ’n Slide through time: one minute, you’re at the top of the yard; next, crashing into a tree. You think you know whose woods these are, but at the bottom, the…
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rm mist, A Work in Process
rm mist A Work in Process Wasteland as cradle, as briar patch, as tomb.Let’s decide where we are in the story.It’s begun with wasteland yearning to be wellspring or promise.Then enters an old woman; she moans and conjures.Patience is not her virtue.We might wonder about her mood upon waking, her phantasmagoric visions,the phase of the…
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T. Haefner, A Reminder
Tresha Faye Haefner A Reminder As you approach the road through the desert,the coyotes howl, their high, silver cries.Proof that something lives in these hills.Moon-quiet. Valley purpled with thought.Boulders gather like lost godsbroken by the angels.Raven’s large wings swoop so noisyshe reminds me what it is to be human. In the sage,the invisible owls barktheir…
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K. DeGroot Carter, haiku
Karen DeGroot Carter Haiku Winter longing slopesfrom drifts of weighted worry.Burial defied. A native of Syracuse, New York, and a graduate of Syracuse University, Karen DeGroot Carter (she/her) (@kdegrootcarter) lives in Denver. Her first novel, One Sister’s Song, is in print with Pearl Street Publishing of Denver, and her fiction, poetry, and nonfiction have appeared…
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J. Howard, Winter Cleaning
Jay Howard Winter Cleaning Dad’s old garage is full of gadgets, some with small engines.The instruction manuals always contain many languages,but there is never any diagram or mention of theessential thing. The wall is cubbies of gently shifting objects that take definite form when touched. I carry them with me.I empty the garage. They appear…
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L. Castle, Dear Kitchen
Luanne Castle Dear Kitchen Stop with your drooping face when I pull a supermarket meal from the fridge or let the bananas go black and–goddess forbid–throw them in the trash instead of making a loaf. I suspect you remember the days of floured counters, the scent of rising dough, and baking bread. Other days, the…
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S. Browning, For the Editor Who Called Grandmother Poems Sentimental
Sarah Browning For the Editor Who Called Grandmother Poems Sentimental I never saw my English grandmother cook a single thing. She was raised by Victorians, vegetarian. Dinner was store-brand canned vegetable soup and cottage cheese. Lunch, canned peaches, and cottage cheese. Breakfast, cold cereal, or maybe cottage cheese.So, a surprise! The Sunset Magazine Vegetarian Cookbook…
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M. Maddox, Let Them Eat Cake
Marjorie Maddox Let Them Eat Cake attributed to Marie AntoinetteWhy not lose yourself in Black Forest, dress yourself in Red Velvet, speak German Chocolate fluently while upside-down in Pineapple? Because. Because. Look past your own table. Sure, in this no-cake-walk of a world, savorCarrot, Apple, & Strawberry; weigh Sponge & Pound; choose Devil’sover Angel, but…
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D. Coor, Making Apple Crisp on New Years Day
Deborrah Corr Making Apple Crisp on New Year’s Day The apple fits the curve of my left fingers. With the right, I wield the peeler. Its soundtrack, a soft scrape and grate as I rotate the globe, round and round until it trails a long tail that falls to the sink, like holiday wrappings that…
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S. Laskin, Breakfast with the stars
Sarah Laskin Breakfast with the Stars Up walking Rocky in the proto-dawn,turn the corner where the trees openand Orion is exposed to view, alwayssteps behind the seven sisters, his prey.Stand and watch, wait for the signalthat says Orion, time to give your bow back to the prop master, make wayon the stage for the Sun,…