Photo by Kierstin Bridger
Curtain Call by M.C. Harris
He showers and hangs the towels in the wrong configuration. She deals with the damp spot, grown cold, with the flaccid sadness of surrendered condoms.
M.C. Harris waits for the approaching supernova, and writes.
Two pieces by Joanna M. Weston
Starry pink she went. Up for grabs under the tent.
Pushed out, shoved into country beyond trees or sky.
Just there, with him. That kiss.
Cherries In The Snow
Bright scarlet, carmine, maroon drops. Leading down the
path to the lake’s edge. Grey water and sand. No body.
Just feathers, yellow claws. Snarling cat.
Joanna M. Weston has two cats, multiple spiders, a
herd of deer, and one dead mouse. Her middle-reader,
‘Those Blue Shoes’, published by Clarity House Press;
and poetry, ‘A Summer Father’, published by Frontenac
House of Calgary. http://1960willowtree.wordpress.com/