Issue 8 – Poetry
The Clang of Distracting Thoughts
The evening began with a question to myself.
“Will I have to give out medical advice at this wedding, too?”
Drifting
All the world is on the wind:
Plants coming into bloom,
Distant fires burning forests and homes,
Smokestacks exhaling on the third shift,
She Used To
I could die on a day just like this
With a slant of sun casting dramatic shadows on my face
The nattering birds are finally unconcerned now the snow
Is melting into mud and their feeder is full again
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
The limbic system behind the game
They say it’s all in the brain,
The amygdala that is not the same,
Smaller than all, experiencing more pain!
In the Wake of the Untimely
It will, like a limb crashing-down
behind you on a wooded path,
cause you to turn, startled,
Hospital
Argument on hold, we sit.
The waiting-room phone rings;
we don’t know the name.
We’re beginning to feel like drones
