Waiting for the Reveal

I. It is believed the first woman ever cut in half went uncredited for her deed. It was 1921 at London’s Finsbury Park Empire Theatre– that we do remember. We remember the magician’s name, P. T. Selbit, and that when the woman was locked inside the wooden crate, her hands, feet, and neck were knotted…

merge

*Originally published in the chapbook Vanishing into the Leaves (Leaf Press, 2014). Luther Allen facilitates SpeakEasy, a community reading series, and is co-editor of Noisy Water.  His collection of poems, The View from Lummi Island, can be found at http://othermindpress.wordpress.com.  His work is included in the recent anthologies WA 129; Refugium, Poems for the Pacific; Poets Unite! LitFUSE @10; and Weaving the Terrain.  His short…

Flagrant Delicto

Radiance is a substantial gain in problem-solving ability— a beam, a gleam, a brilliant luminosity, a schedule that feels like fractals— eligible, redundant, fancy, berry-flavored, and pungent, though less punitive to the touch, with a sound like mulch. William Pratt doesn’t think much of the luster cast by sunlight across the tombs of Kensal Green….

And what if everything

*Originally published in Sirenlit Magazine. Natasha Kochicheril Moni is the winner of the 2018 Floating Bridge Press Award, a Jack Straw Writer, and the author of The Cardiologist’s Daughter (Two Sylvias Press, 2014), Lay Down Your Fleece (Shirt PocketPress, 2017), Nearly (dancing girl press, 2018), and A Nation (Imagined) (Floating Bridge Press, 2018). Her poetry, essays, fiction, and book reviews have been published in journals including, The…

Neptune

There is a planet on his shoulders.  Are his shoes right?   Is his taste in movies cultured enough?     His jealously comes in rings. Dear Neptune, no one taught him how to kiss. No body-celestial was bold enough to enter his orbit. Poor blue, he’s never had a moon no satellite, no plaid clad asteroid bent…

Camille

after Camille by Edyta Salak She never felt like her name fit her, he felt the same. She lets her son dress up in leftover pastels, does not scorn him when he twirls in a dress only laughs and notes the skirt’s shape as it swirls. An opening flower, the pink of a cheek, her…

Pharmalogical Eyes

Resisting his long-lashed beacons shining through the windscreen of the white Chevy Impala proved as futile as keeping the wind from the air. The Pied Piper of tenth-grade girls guaranteed my giving all. I wanted the everything all the way the American Prince held back held back, held back, held back liege to the siren…

Sweet Chariot

sotto voce I would not admit this to another soul but I will to you, sleepless reader: I need a ride home. Too much, much too much of a good thing! On that road to death, low tones accompany me, dulcet ditties echo; since the realization of fallibility, as seen on TV, I’ve been swingin,…

The Following Sea

In the following sea, we came burdened by the wind’s weight. In the dark, the night before, under constellations, you held yourself in an arc above me. In the small light, the one you pressed against the wall, I saw your shape. We pitched in the sea’s swell. You and I, in that cabin, trust…

Nightmare Ghazal

Is this the morning, then, when you wake full of nightmare to a song you don’t understand? Has there been another war, the tide coming in full of cars and bodies, man-made, mere fodder for the dollar mill, that needs its share of nightmare? What brought these organs in its teeth? How many split hairs…

The Nine of Cups

She called it The Wish Card, my psychic grandmother hoping over and over for love although she worried most about money. She took potions for sleep, a mind that would not settle. Ghosts plagued her daily, hiding the coveted card with its brimming chalices. Symbol of more than plenty. She told in alleys and back…