By Carly Racklin in Issue Four, May 2022

Last summer I buried a body under the apple tree
and every now and then I see the ghost plucking weeds
and picking seeds from his teeth.
He spits them at my window at night.

Tall Tales

By F. J. Bergmann in Issue Four, May 2022

The best place we ever lived
had a really big tree. More than five stories
shadowed the backyard.

At first they were short
and simple: moralistic fables or fairy tales

Misconceptions Regarding the Moon

By Avra Margariti in Issue Two, January 2022

The moon is a ghost, a god.
She is a white rabbit of silver
Eyes and whiskers.
He is an ancient demon, a teething child.

And it dries and dries

By Marisca Pichette in Issue Three, March 2022

In my mind a butterfly catches pneumonia:
Flap flap the world is changed.

There’s a second life but not a first,
there’s you and no there’s just me—

The Nymphs Are Migrating

By Madalena Daleziou in Issue Three, March 2022

In the small hours, under the wolf light.
my best friend throws peanuts
at my window. It is the nymphs.
They are migrating.

sestina for the summer solstice

By Claire McNerney in Issue Three, March 2022

dot the j and cross the seven.
upcoming in neon, in oppressive heat
we dream with night-opened windows.

Wolf Rune

By Thomas Zimmerman in Issue One, November 2021

The forest lands link earth with heaven,
spruce-tree tips like dendrites of elder earthen gods.