Sun worshiper by Lisa Nielson
The ocean is all teeth today–devouring the sand, but enraged by its compliance. Suppler days are dreamy, but we have monsters to tame.
Lisa Nielsen is studiously working on her resolution to write more and clean less.
Below the Belt by Alice G. Otto
Friends parade pocketed portraits of their kids: soccer, choir, scouts. The missing baby teeth are daggers. Nothing’s taking, nothing’s working. Your own wallet is barren.
Alice G. Otto lives in Fayetteville, Arkansas with her husband, two voracious beagles, and an extra-toed cat. She is currently an MFA candidate at the University of Arkansas.
Go Go Green by Bruce Harris.
She made her own compost, bought an electric car, and heated her home with solar energy. Everything was sustainable and recyclable, except her nail polish.
Bruce Harris enjoys relaxing with a Marxman.
Three pieces by Gemma Bristow
They freeze too quickly for astonishment, ripe fruit crashing from the branches into snow.
By morning, all is white except the pulp of six pomegranates.
Daylight makes real what she dreamed so long. Their goddess, their protector, stolen from her dais, and the gates of the city buckling under blows.
Nailed into a box of bronze and cedar to hide her disgrace. Only the waves, as she’s pushed from shore, murmur I will protect you.
Gemma Bristow is a technical writer who tries not to think about software interfaces all the time. Her poetry and prose have appeared in various publications.
Three pieces by Joanna M. Weston
Smoke sifts out through the tent door, a gentle pale drift against deep blue sky. The familiar smell tickles my nostrils and I smile: pot.
My skis hurtling down, wind stings my cheeks. A burst of dazzling white, and I’ve fallen, a whirl of poles and skis, blinded by sunshine.
He bought a large red herring, cooked it in butter on his gas stove while texting his girl-friend. The explosion fried his fish and mortgage.
Joanna M. Weston is married; has two cats, multiple spiders, a herd of deer, and two derelict hen-houses. Her middle-reader, ‘Those Blue Shoes’, published by Clarity House Press; and poetry, ‘A Summer Father’, published by Frontenac House of Calgary. Her eBook, ‘The Willow Tree Girl’ at her blog: http://www.1960willowtree.wordpress.com/
Two pieces by Zoë Danielle
I wore them because of the slender length they gave my legs, stretching off into nothingness, while the sharp point of the heel anchored me.
It reminded me of her; all violent edges but translucent in a way that let me see right through. One bite and I tasted blood.