PIETA

by Kay White Drew

for Women’s History Month

To the women in the Vietnam memorial:
One of you holds the dying soldier, one hand
to his chest. One hand, not two. You seem to know
he is beyond CPR, past the point where
anything can save him. The new volunteer
who crouches behind you, stricken,
in her fresh fatigues and boonie hat, must
know this too, green as she is. Your hand rests
on his shrapnel-filled chest not to rescue,
but to comfort, to say, “You’re not alone.”
Your sister-in-arms who’s become
the best friend you’ll ever have,
lays her hand along your arm
for mutual comfort and support
as she calls for help out of habit
in her resonant voice. To a compatriot:
“Need a doctor over here!” To the universe:
“Enough! For the love of God, enough!”

In a time when petty tyrants rewrite
history to suit their bigotry, your granite
tableau stands solid in resistance.

Kay White Drew is a retired physician whose poems appear in various anthologies and internet outlets including The New Verse News. She’s also published short stories and several essays, one of which was nominated for a Pushcart Prize, and a memoir, Stress Test. She lives in Rockville, MD with her husband. Spending time in nature helps her stay sane in these difficult days.

TO EMILY DICKINSON, ON THE DEATH OF SINÉAD O’CONNOR

by Anne Myles

I’m thinking of you, centaur sister,

and of this other, lost now—

stripped words beating meters

against God’s battlements

Young I discovered both of you,

needing the keen of it—

hymns of love ingathered

only in separation

Two queens I can’t approach,

though I too felt the rising

to stitch the rage with beauty,

to feel my throat open

in despised prophecy–

flames of our temperament leaping

in stony rooms of limitation,

clawed by what we cannot name—

Both of you dead in your fifties

while I scan a new horizon—

still looking for that vanishing green

pasture to lie down in

Anne Myles is the author of Late Epistle, winner of Sappho's Prize in Poetry (Headmistress Press, 2023) and What Woman That Was: Poems for Mary Dyer (Final Thursday Press, 2022). She is Professor Emeritus of English at the University of Northern Iowa and lives in Greensboro, NC.

MY SISTER

by MJ Parker

Detail of art print by claudiatremblay.

my sister has one of the most dangerous jobs in america.

my sister likes the color blue, and her eyes are as green as emeralds.

my sister reads a new book every week.

my sister takes pictures of butterflies in our yard.

my sister fosters dogs.

my sister sings too loud when she drives.

my sister loves taylor swift.

my sister is my favorite person on this planet.

and every day—

i worry she will not come home.

my sister is a gentle soul.

my sister loves pasta.

my sister graduated with a 4.0.

my sister has crystals on her shelf in her room.

my sister’s hair is honey blonde.

my sister has wrinkles by her eyes when she smiles.

my sister is the most compassionate person i know.

and every day—

i worry she will not come home.

my sister puts her life at risk, or at least she does here, in america.

my sister is a wonderful pre-k teacher. 

Editor's note: Yesterday, May 2, was National (U. S.) Teacher Appreciation Day.

MJ Parker is a twenty-two year old poet from North Texas. She specializes in poetry about current events in America, feminism, and environmentalism. 

WHAT ELIE WIESEL KNEW

by John Guzlowski

Death is the air we breathe.
The bread we chew.
The brother and sister
who stand by us always.

Elie Wiesel knew this
And taught us this
Everyday.

Don't be afraid.

John Guzlowski's writing has appeared in Rattle, North American Review, Ontario Review, Nimrod, Salon.com, and many other journals and reviews.  Garrison Keillor read his poem "What My Father Believed" on The Writers Almanac. Guzlowski's 5th book of poems Echoes of Tattered Tongues was a highlighted book in this year's Publishers Weekly Poetry Month issue. 

IN ALEPPO

by Rick Gray

Image source: The Telegraph

                                                                      

He hides under the spitting rage of barrel bombs

Thundering below another’s day’s bolting attack.

Buried in the dark basement below his broken home

He vows to its ghosts he’s never coming back.  

It’s always Miriam, his sly sister, or Mohamed, a reckless brother,

Too hungry to fake dreams anymore,

Who creak on naked feet around the booby traps

Down the twisted stairway into the hum of a shattered kitchen.

In darkness he learns to hear

the miracle of an empty bowl filled,

and the holy whisper of long-life milk over looted cereal

before mercy comes crackling through his bitter spells.




Rick Gray has work currently appearing in Salamander and has an essay forthcoming in the book, Neither Here Nor There: An Anthology of Reverse Culture Shock. He served in the Peace Corps in Kenya and teaches in Kabul, Afghanistan.

CARPENTRY, AS TAUGHT BY GRAND THEFT AUTO IV

by J. Bradley

SLAUGHTER, LA, Aug. 24, 2013 (WAFB) - East Feliciana Parish Sheriff's Office officials say they believe an 8-year-old intentionally pulled the trigger and killed an elderly woman Thursday evening right after playing 'Grand Theft Auto IV'. Although they believe it was an intentional crime, according to Louisiana law, the child will not be charged.

Aim for the head; you need
the rest of the body intact.

Reload as dictated. Melt
the spent casings.

Plead with your guests
to ignore the smell.

Ask them how comfortable
mother is as arm chair,

little sister as ottoman.
Tell them about the wine

as you pull a bottle off
your father the wine rack.


J. Bradley is the author of the forthcoming graphic poetry collection The Bones of Us (YesYes Books, 2014).