The Last Diary Entries of Septimus Warren Smith by Katherine Orr
Aug19

The Last Diary Entries of Septimus Warren Smith by Katherine Orr

  “The Last Diary Entries of Septimus Warren Smith” by Katherine Orr   Like an attic full of books. Like a gymnasium. Like sorrow. Everything is always so big. But I’m not afraid of the silence that follows what I came to say. So instead of talking, I watch my wife work on her bonnets – feathers and flowers, violets, vegetables, birds. All the ladies come to her, now that it’s Spring. * Explosion in the park...

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Silence on a June Morning, 1944 by Tracy Davidson
Aug19

Silence on a June Morning, 1944 by Tracy Davidson

  “Silence on a June Morning, 1944” by Tracy Davidson   Soldiers lined up in perfect formation beside the egg, its skull cracked, peeled back bit by bit, white matter exposed and discarded. The soldiers move in, drowning themselves in gold treasure. The metal tool enters the fray, scraping up every last vestige of life. Ejected shell casings lie scattered about amid crumbs of debris and puddles of dripped butter....

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Spoil of War by Leatha Kendrick
Aug19

Spoil of War by Leatha Kendrick

  “Spoil of War” by Leatha Kendrick   –for the Chibok schoolgirls, and all the girls and women taken Every womb ransacked, every womb wound round with shame’s body, once a studious curious being now bounty of a holy war. Every sacred shift of childhood ripped away leaving ravaged skin, unhinged senses, echoed calls to prayer beat in their ears, the constant wound remade more than daily. All the wombs...

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Mothers Who Carry Their Own Water by Gerda Govine Ituarte
Aug19

Mothers Who Carry Their Own Water by Gerda Govine Ituarte

  “Mothers Who Carry Their Own Water” by Gerda Govine Ituarte   When there is no well land is parched mouth dusty skin cracked bloody fingers plant roses Mothers who carry their own water are viewed with discomfort curtains of words fall I don’t know what to say time heals all whispers trail behind like tails a reminder of what could happen to them Mothers who carry their own water live through in under around...

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Women’s Voices by Diana Woodcock
Aug19

Women’s Voices by Diana Woodcock

  “Women’s Voices” by Diana Woodcock   Sometimes I listen to Turkish music, Bahar, Kordes Turkuler, even though the tempo’s too fast, too brash, because I need to feel at last a little unsettled, a bit rattled by discordance— the voices of women from Turkish, Armenian, Kurdish borders calling out to me. Language mysterious, but no mistaking their message. Same in every language: absence of love and respect the...

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This Land by Chloe DeFilippis
Aug19

This Land by Chloe DeFilippis

  “This Land” by Chloe DeFilippis   On a farm in Lakewood, New Jersey, my father, a little boy, visits his paternal grandparents. They are immigrants, speaking broken English to the family and yelling Italian commands at the dogs. Their land is filled with food: watermelons, peaches, raspberries, blackberries, grapes, peppers, tomatoes, cucumbers, herbs, chickens, rabbits, and a goat or two. My father runs...

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Manifest Destiny by Kirin McCrory
Aug19

Manifest Destiny by Kirin McCrory

  “Manifest Destiny” by Kirin McCrory                It is Man’s natural state to expand his boundaries past the land that has been granted him by the immediate moment. Give a man an acre and he will fill it, and want two. Give him two and he will break those, and need three. It is the nature of Man to bound and be boundless, and the West seemed...

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Blackbirds by Karen Heuler
Aug19

Blackbirds by Karen Heuler

  “Blackbirds” by Karen Heuler   When my grandparents immigrated, they were very poor and lived for a time near a park with some of their children (it would be years before the whole family could be together).              My grandfather went to the park at evening to catch blackbirds for dinner. I guess they ate blackbirds where he came from and it was...

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The Refugee by Julie Christine Johnson
Aug19

The Refugee by Julie Christine Johnson

  “The Refugee” by Julie Christine Johnson   1 used lifejacket 1 passport 1 sunhat Toothbrush Comb Seasickness tablets 200 Euros 200 Turkish liras Three multi-packets of cigarettes With this, and the clothing he wears, he leaves a broken city whose name meant copper in a language time has long since melted down and reshaped. The man’s name, the one thing he carries that no one can steal, is Radwan. ~ 1 eiderdown...

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Raqqa, Syria to Crete by Susan Shaw Sailer
Aug19

Raqqa, Syria to Crete by Susan Shaw Sailer

  “Raqqa, Syria to Crete” by Susan Shaw Sailer   Doah’s 19, Syrian, working in Egypt  all human beings are born free her own town bombed out  and equal in dignity and rights   Egypt doesn’t want her  they are endowed  tries to kidnap  and send her back  with reason and conscience   Decides to go to Europe  and should act toward one another  pays $2000 for a spot on a fishing boat meant for...

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