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Literature Text
At the end of aisle thirteen
surrounded by tin foil,
saran wrap, parchment paper
and Ziploc bags--
everything required
to make a life filled to bursting
with overdue student loan bills
and bimonthly paychecks
that can't be saved
just a little easier to handle--
he appeared.
"What are you doing here?"
I asked him,
the floor beneath my knees
cold and unyielding
through denim jeans.
"Tell your mom hello,"
he replied instead,
smiling,
and then I blinked
and he must have walked away,
though I could almost swear
he faded out.
When I opened my eyes,
the alarm was ringing
and the husband was asleep
by my side.
"Hi, grandpa,"
I thought
as I drug myself
from warm covers and a heavy arm.
"You look good."
surrounded by tin foil,
saran wrap, parchment paper
and Ziploc bags--
everything required
to make a life filled to bursting
with overdue student loan bills
and bimonthly paychecks
that can't be saved
just a little easier to handle--
he appeared.
"What are you doing here?"
I asked him,
the floor beneath my knees
cold and unyielding
through denim jeans.
"Tell your mom hello,"
he replied instead,
smiling,
and then I blinked
and he must have walked away,
though I could almost swear
he faded out.
When I opened my eyes,
the alarm was ringing
and the husband was asleep
by my side.
"Hi, grandpa,"
I thought
as I drug myself
from warm covers and a heavy arm.
"You look good."
Literature
Shallow Water
It was just a little kiddie pool in the backyard, unlovely pink-and-yellow plastic under the hot summer sun. But on those nights when Mom came home from the swing shift tired and met Daddy sitting in the kitchen angry, it was Amy’s only sanctuary.
She wasn’t a sound sleeper. Her parents still talked about how it had taken her infant self six months to sleep more than two or three hours at a time. During the school year, when her life was full of classes and friends and sports, it was easier to drop off, but summer nights were always more difficult. They were hotter, for one thing, and the long, indolent, inactive days often left
Literature
Coalescence in (and of) Poetry
Chatoyant stargazer, you with
skin as opulent as spring itself
hair a realm where fairies roam
limbs redolent of riverbed soil
lead me to the illusive seams
of this halcyon of gossamer dreams
over orion and past the eye of god
Grandiloquent desiderata, you are
Literature
Synesthetic
Sometimes I taste test names;
Anita – sharp citrus
and lemongrass
for the ann-i,
a tortilla for the taa.
Brad – I like
its weight; a slab
of marbled chocolate
melted on my tongue
before the last letter.
Charlotte – something
savory, but sweet; pork
marinated in honey
on sweet rolls.
Doug – vanilla
tinged cheesecake;
a dusting of graham
cracker shavings;
an Oreo with no filling.
Elena – spice
and heat radiate –
eh-layne-ahh – a corona
bursting from
the second e.
Fletcher – it’s syllables
mesh like mashed
potatoes, lumpy yet
consistent.
Gladys – dried
lemons and stale
Spre
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Comments50
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This is very, very sweet.