A Boy’s Pockets by Jessica Brooks
With pride, I wear my new
pair of pants, cinched tight with a belt.
Mommy bought them for me. They have
eleven empty pockets that must be filled.

Smoking Area by Kathy Sievert
He shifted uncomfortably in his wheelchair. It was cheaply made, the hard, gray plastic
seat and back frozen in the contours of somebody else’s body. “Nursing home issue,” he said to no one in particular. “Can’t expect much more.” He turned off the television his daughter, JoAnn, and her husband, Bob, had given him for Christmas. A flat screen they called it, something about digital and plasma.


The Arrival of Darkness by Linda Herring
The garbage-can cat
with flashlight eyes
comes out at dusk
to prowl the dark
streets and alleys

Priest Lake by Hannah Stewart
Priest Lake,
At dawn I wake, witnessing a fiery red ball dominate the sleek
dark sky, the speckles of stars gradually departing, as if to appear
in somebody else’s night.
During the day, the waves crash onto the beach like cymbals in a
marching band, washing over the sand as if it were trying to cool it
down from the broiling sun that is now high in the sky.