ARRANGED MARRIAGE

by Lavinia Kumar

Pluto and Charon. (Getty Images) “…researchers reported that in the early stages of formation Charon and Pluto came together and orbited as one, swapping some materials before separating. They call this cosmic dance a “kiss and capture” event…” —Yahoo! News, January 9, 2025

It was no secret Charon and Pluto

had an arranged marriage.

Neither knew the other

before the aunties agreed

stars and family were aligned.

 

Charon brought her dowry,

and with much ceremony

they were wed, the entire

Kuiper village at the nuptials

 

But, alas, it was a fraught marriage—

Pluto, unhappy, decided to undo 

this union. Naturally, he decided

to keep the dowry brought by Charon, 

those valuable diamonds,

that cache of ice.

 

Then, unfortunately, the divorce 

was not agreed to, was discouraged,

by families on both sides. And so, 

for eternity, these two unhappy beings 

are together. And apart.  

Both unhappy.

 

They had no children.

See Lavinia Kumar’s three food stories in Issue Five of Ruby Literary Press, The Monsoon Rain winning a 2024 Pushcart nomination.

CAN YOU LET THE CICADA BE BEAUTIFUL?

by Morrow Dowdle

When one, newly broken from its honeyed shell

tests flight’s imperative,

   whirs, strikes your skin,

will you turn to see who’s there?  Don’t look up.

Don’t think you deserve only what’s lofted.

This holy spirit lies on asphalt on its back.

 

Reconsider where it comes from, this fear

of what that can’t harm us. 

        Why do we hate it?

Turn it over if you are brave enough to touch it. 

Braver still if you will lift it.  Make your fingers

delicate as chopsticks on a robin’s egg.

Don’t pitch it in the grass.  Let it cling

to your wrist,

           its legs’ gentle sharpness.  You are just

another kind of tree, flesh-barked.  It crawls

your arm, and that’s when you see its eyes of red,

such a red we could never manifest—

not the richest lips, not the sex in its engorged

glory.  And its wings,

           its wings when they unstick,

intricate as any dragonfly, yet you’ll never find them

enshrined in silver, glass, or amethyst.

Are you brave enough, now, to allow it

to approach your head?  You have no xylem, no sap

for it to taste.  Nothing

                                     to dread.  But would you kiss it?

Could you name it the most modest of angels,

if much disgraced?  An angel must have wings,

but surely, it can wear any face.

 

Morrow Dowdle has poetry published in or forthcoming from New York Quarterly, Pedestal Magazine, Fatal Flaw, and Poetry South, among others. They have been nominated for the Pushcart and Best of the Net.  They edit poetry for Sunspot Literary Journal and host “Weave & Spin,” a performance series featuring marginalized voices. A former physician assistant, they now work as a creative writing instructor for current and former prison inmates. They live in Hillsborough, NC.

RUBIALES KISS

by Paul Hostovsky

They call it football because
you can only use your feet.

Though sometimes you can also use 
your head, your chest, your legs.

But you can’t use your hands.
And you can’t use your arms. 

Those are the rules.

They call it a kiss on the mouth because
it’s a kiss on the mouth.

You can only kiss the mouth of someone 
with whom you are intimate. 

A lover. A spouse. 
Sometimes also family.

Use your head. 

That’s the rule. 
In all countries and in all languages. 

True, it is an unwritten rule,
but that’s no excuse for breaking it.

And now that you’ve broken it, Luis,
now that you’re flaunting it 

and famously showing your contempt for it, 

you can be sure the rule 
will get written down after this.

And though you probably won’t end up
in jail, you just may end up 

giving your name to this kind of unwanted kiss. 
Even without your consent. 

Because that’s the rule with eponyms.

Paul Hostovsky's poems have won a Pushcart Prize, two Best of the Net Awards, the FutureCycle Poetry Book Prize, and have been featured on Poetry Daily, Verse Daily, The Writer's Almanac, and the Best American Poetry blog.

LIZ’S FIRST DAY

by Annie Cowell

In an overcast Scottish sky, a plane circles

like a call on hold, carrying a lady in waiting.

Below, at Balmoral, the self proclaimed 

booster rocket splashes out. 

It is unlikely we will see photos 

of him ploughing. A chorus of low thunder 

fills the short interval before the Queen 

offers her hand for the fifteenth time. 

The kiss is symbolic.

Instead, a small handshake suffices

to greet the latest Prime Minster. 

She bears the same moniker, but 

unlike Elizabeth, she uses the diminutive.

Liz. 

She promises to deliver a better future,

to be like Hera, protector of children.

Yet I wonder if that night, as she closed the door

on the first day of her government

whether she held her breath and listened

for noises in the street?

Or did she simply kiss her children 

good night 

and toddle off to bed?

Annie Cowell is a former teacher who lives by the sea in Cyprus with her husband and rescue dogs. She is widely published in Popshot Quarterly, The Milk House, Paddler Press, and more. Her debut chapbook Birth Mote(s) is now available.

FIRST KISS

by Judy Rowe Michaels

Though I could barely part my lips, numb
in a starry winter night, and our breaths
nearly froze before they could rise,
                                                        we breathed
faster. Inside your mouth it was safe and warm,
exploratory, we could taste, we could trust
the invitations      handles, switches, faucets, keys.

So many years of kissing
easy as breath.
                         No lethal droplets in the air     on my tongue
can you remember
                              when it felt like time was on our side?

Judy Rowe Michaels is a poet in the schools for the Geraldine R. Dodge Foundation and gives poetry workshops for teachers around the country. A member of the women's poetry critique and performance group Cool Women, she has published four poetry collections, including Reviewing the Skull (WordTech Editions), The Forest of Wild Hands (University Press of Florida), and a chapbook, Ghost Notes (Finishing Line Press) as well as three books on teaching writing. She has received residencies from Banff Centre for the Arts, Hedgebrook, and the MacDowell Colony. A six-time cancer patient, Michaels gives talks on ovarian cancer at NJ and NYC medical schools for the national program Survivors Teaching Students.