Aquarium Show

by R. Suresh babuChikmagalur, Karnataka, India aquarium showguppies for salein polythene bags

Faint Aurora

By Theresa A. CancroWilmington, Delaware, USA faint aurora  . . .a polar bear clambersonto the shrinking floe

MAID*

By Anna CatesWilmington, Ohio, USA . . . and she wilts like wet paper,her watercolor life bleeding pink across unfinished pages, the faintest pink, like the weakest sunset, where purple fails and pales, thinning, her voice, their voices, mortal voices, angel voices, demon voices, choices, choices, such agonizing choices . . .         fragrant        chrysanthemums . . .        prayer threads*Medical Assistance in Dying, Canada’s euthanasia program, legal since 2016 and expanded in 2021 to include those suffering without foreseeable death.  

Aspects of remembrance

By Florence HeyhoeCounty Down, Northern Ireland “Your father was a great man,” said Theadora,  “He used to stay at our house, he fished up Gortin way with my husband, they would talk for hours; they were good friends.”  slippery eelssizzling in the pancaught netted I know better. I have seen him cross the line at times teasing cats: tumbling into cruelty. He told me a story once of a Siamese that sprung at him from the top of a door, sinking in teeth and claws on landing. Serves him right. He beat the living daylights out of my brother, locked…

Omnipotent?

By Florence HeyhoeCounty Down, Northern Ireland He took the children in his arms . . . and blessed them I watch her marching into the middle of the road, wearing a white coat carrying her lollipop. The traffic parts like the Red Sea and the children cross over safely. Some walk hand in hand others skip. Most smile but a few are scowling on their way to school. There are other places where they take children, herded like cattle, delivered. Crossed over to sordid places, devoid of smiles. Here, there, everywhere, congregations of lecherous deviants drool and throw silver coins. …

Yulara – the town square

By Marilyn HumbertSyndey, NSW, Australia where the ghost gums gatheron-country women spread canvas squarescrushed ochre in small precise pilesred yellow orangewater to mixa white clay paste.all day, shade lessensand lengthenstheir brushes stroke and daubancient lore in dots and symbolstheir life, their dreamtime storieswhen bark canoes found this shorewhen feet wandered songline trailsbeside rivers, beneath stars.today bitumen and gravel divideswire and pickets corralthe ghosts of memory forests. Yulara is the village about 25kms from Uluru NT Australia, the place to stay when visiting Uluru.

Insurance?

By Steve Van Allen - Cincinnati, Ohio, USA, EarthAnna Cates - Wilmington, Ohio, USA Sugar-Pie is third in line at the pharmacy, six feet behind number two.  As she walks down the allergy aisle, she often wonders if her mother cursed her into diabetes. The pharmacy is busy; it always is.  Finally, "Can I help you?" "My name is Sugar-Pie.  I have one prescription to pick up. My birthday is August 14." "Here it is.  That will be $280." She feels faint and holds onto the counter.  "It was $40 last month!" "You are into your donut hole.  Spend another…

A Refuge’s Life

By Judit HollosBudapest, Hungary a refuge's life claimed by the sea her boat sinks beneath shards of starlight painted on the ocean waves Further Reading:Boat carrying 45 migrants and refugees capsizes off Yemen - BBC2023 Messenia migrant boat disaster - WikipediaCuban boat people - Wikipedia

Flag of the Weeds

By Margi AbrahamSydney, New South Wales, Australia Who will fly the flag?The flag of no homelandbut this Earth, this spherecircling a life-giving star. The unsymbolic, forgotten flagwith no country, no teamno cheering, no burningwith partisan meaning. The flag of the wavescrashing hope on every shore.The flag of sun-flecked mountainsreflecting beauty to the dawn. The quiet, sacred flagof peace and love enduring;breaking walls and shackles,unlocking doors with mercy. The flag of weary heartsthat search for signs already toldby weeds persisting through the cracks ─their breeze-tattered flowers.

A Toy Gun, with Real Bullets

By Robert WitmerTokyo, Japan new musica catatonic scalefor the poet’s requiem we are but cloudsof cosmic dustcollapsing in a dream apples sweetenin the shadowshungry birds dark secretsfrom a broken heartarctic waters warm waterinto wineresource wars the courthousein the pawnshop windowantique scales havesand halve notstaking the last peace vacuum sealedthe totalitarian mindsof mixed nuts fanning himselfwith a meat cleaverthe butcher sighs a thin ratover broken glassmoonlight in a slum raina gravedigger’s fingersflipping a coin gravestoneshuddle in spring grassa church bellwithout a tongue waves leapfrogthe ripping tideempty pews dream songsin night’s chamberpot our eyesglazed donutssweetening the whole each pledgea bullet whistlinghand over…

Dreadful Speech

By Robert WitmerTokyo, Japan Herdsman: I am on the brink of dreadful speech.Oedipus: And I of dreadful hearing. Yet I must hear. wise menthe star that guideson the blink the labyrinthbehind her eyesa broken thread a brilliant ideaout of the blueIcarus twitterthe beadin his whistle sunlighton icethe banker’s smile somewherein the dark rooma clock ticks wild canariessinging on the wingfrom the coal mine climate changewe turn to facea firing squad wara fistful of ashesin a game of dice twisting shadowsbeneath falling leaveswar’s children little red roosterthe hen’s dreamsizzles in the skillet First Published: Lothlorien Poetry Journal, September 2023

Disabled Society

By Steve Van AllenCincinnati, Ohio, USA, Earth Judy cashiers 2 days a week at a Dollar Store,  loves the job, the people and it works well with her wheelchair. At the end of a day, she is tired, and so happy the two blocks home are mostly downhill.  She unlocks her door and rolls into her tiny apartment, turns on the one overhead light and says hello to her green budgie.  Judy grabs her one bowl and fills it with off-brand cheerios and the end her milk. Six months ago it was a no-tell motel, pay by the hour. She reads…

Has-Beens

By Florence HeyhoeWarrenpint, County Down, Northern Ireland If this town were a set of teeth I would recommend a visit to the dentist for it is full of gaps. However, the hotel on the main street sparkles like a polished molar, after a recent renovation. It seems out of place amidst this yawning emptiness. The people I knew as a child long dead: the school teacher who beat and threatened the children, the grocer brothers in their brown coats … who were fond of young boys, the man, from the tick tock shop where the musty smell lingered. Many buildings…

Render Unto Caesar

By Matthew CarettiPago Pago, American Samoa         what mud daubers do organ prelude We’ve been around a long time. A mother’s day ever since Australopithecus Africanus. Things haven’t gone all that smoothly, though. These days we spend our time critical race theorizing empathy. Realize it’s more than a single letter from refuge to refugee.         morning prayer a lone canary out of the mine Wildfire embers rise with Mars. Too much pleasure urges more pain. Our brains built for it. Type 3 fun house mirrors bend bones and time. Some circadian rhythm of our…

Closet to Landfill

By Monica Kakkar (she/her/hers)India and United States of America closet to landfill . . .as far as the eye can seeend of summer sales First Published: Asahi Shimbun's Asahi Haikuist Network, September 01, 2023 https://www.asahi.com/ajw/articles/14993322 Reference: NBC Chicago - Your donated clothes probably end up abroad in landfills.Green America - Unraveling fashion industry - what really happens to unwanted clothes.EPA.GOV - Facts and figures about materials waste and recycling/textiles material specific data.The Atlantic - where does discarded clothing go?

Crude

Theresa A. CancroWilmington, Delaware, USA unmixed oil slicks press against dolphin skin fall leaves…a plastic bag gapeswide as Texas First published in The Other Bunny, June 11, 2018

Broken Bottle

By Theresa A. CancroWilmington, Delaware, USA broken bottleat the end of the pathblue-eyed grass First published in Plum Tree Tavern, 2015