Shannon Cuthbert – 1 poem

By the River Root

Crabapple child,
Born sour and folded in dough.
Baked an hour before you hatched.
You remember the water,
Its petals, in peals, in bells incessant
On your limbs like a new beginning,
But not what came after,
Heat of the stone.
You’re exactly the length of geese on glaciers,
Gullets trout-full and choking up moon.
Precisely the width of woven cats.
Their pure whispers
Strung on fences and frames
All angles all edges
Before they slip through.
Your mother twisted light and shadow,
Sloughed off film that tarred your lungs
Just so you could call out in the black.
Just so you could call her back
From where she’s gone
Or where she’s been.
One thrush coughs throaty with night.
Sour child now call it back.

Shannon Cuthbert is a writer and artist living in Brooklyn. Her poems have appeared in  The Orchards Poetry JournalWriters’ Cafe Magazine, and Glass: A Journal of Poetry, among others. Her work is forthcoming in Dodging the Rain, Plum Tree Tavern, Amethyst Review, and Hamilton Stone Review.

Roberta Santlofer – 1 poem

An Ending

            

I left you finally

A moment ago

Because you didn’t know how

To say “hello” on the phone

Just your usual angry drunken

“What!”

Say “hello” I said

But another, “What!”

Bye, click, I hung up

You were gone.

            

Roberta “Bobby” Santlofer (1943-2020) was a mother of sons, an avid reader, and a poet. A posthumous collection of her poetry is forthcoming. Santlofer’s poems have appeared or are forthcoming in GargoylePhiladelphia StoriesGrey Sparrow Review, and elsewhere.

Ian Mullins – 2 poems

Expresso

            

Ride a train once and it’s yours

forever; no matter

how many strangers occupy

your seat or fog the same factories,

            

the people standing by fire exits

with smoke on their fingers

will always be marked

on your own private map

of triumphs and teases,

failures and fiascos smudging

            

any sense of destination.

So when you look from a window

all you see is a clouded mirror,

nothing but two hours lost

on a train; before it owned your ass.

            

Visitors

            

Words own me,

burrowing into my ears

then burning into my brain,

building new homes

to breed more words

            

and soon there’s

a whole town in here,

screaming laughing

and living their lives;

while the host they infect

can do nothing

            

but take every punch,

every word;

be part of the crowd

marching to the cliff

tumbling their children

down with their pride,

            

then laughing when they

hit the ground running.

            

Ian Mullins ships out from Liverpool. Laughter In The Shape Of A Guitar (UB) struck few chords in 2015. Almost Human (Original Plus) was let loose in 2017. Masks and Shadows (Wordcatcher) took off in 2019. Take A Deep Breath (Dempsey and Windle) followed in 2020.

Book Shout: The Redundancy of Tautology by Bindweed Editor in Chief, Leilanie Stewart

Bindweed Editor in Chief, Leilanie Stewart’s, third poetry collection The Redundancy of Tautology is now published! You can buy copies from Amazon UK, from Amazon dot com and from her publisher’s website at Cyberwit.

You can read sample poems from her collection that were previously published in magazines and anthologies – the following links are free to read online:


The Redundancy of Tautology” first published in Dead Snakes Magazine, 2016.

New-sense” first published in The Open Mouse, 2014.

A faraday cage will keep you safe, Thou dost protest too much, Life is a-changing, Long haul, Show not tell, Ripe fruit” first published in Mudjob Magazine, 2013

Landmass” first published in Jellyfish Whispers, 2013.

English Litter-ature” first published in Boyslut Magazine, 2013.

Happy Reading!