LAVENDER SKIES

by Amy Ballard Rich


Under lavender skies she flew low;
she recently learned the art
of staying under the radar

Now more than ever
she will look before leaping
into any new company
she wants to keep

Close calls are everywhere;
better to memorize plants and herbs
than to rely on anyone
or anything else

Remembering how and where your roots are,
deeply buried for thousands of years,
will help you fix your gaze ever upward
to find hidden rainbows
behind
the tears clouds are shedding
as they watch a powerful few
try and choke our freedoms
out of us


* * * * *

Amy Ballard Rich is a retired preschool teacher, living in Berkeley, CA. When not writing she can be found hugging both trees and her chosen family. She is still waiting for her attempts to smash patriarchy to bear fruit.

 

Red

by Abigail Davis

 
As a little girl,
my mother did her best
to protect me from men.
 
Red became a color
I could not wear
on my lips,
on my nails.
“But why?” I persisted
as she struggled to explain
in a way that appeased
my tiny, growing brain.
 
“Provocative”
was the word
she was searching for:
a word
I could not understand at four.
 
“Why don’t you try pink?”
I did not want to try pink.
“Red is for grown women”
she’d say,
but what she meant was,
“If you wear it, men will see you as grown.”
 
Yet here I am
at 27,
a year of abstinence,
six weeks of unshaved legs,
divorce papers in the mail,
trauma within the confines of my heart,
and red staining my lips.
Tell me,
is this what provocative looks like?
 
 
* * * * *

Abigail Davis is a preschool teacher living in North Carolina. Her poem, “Where Love Died,” can be found in One Page Poetry’s 2023 Anthology. She has a passion for expressing emotions through writing whether it be poetry, journaling, or short stories. Her joy is found in seeking solitude in nature, as well as witnessing the antics of her two beloved cats, Tylee and Azula. 

Your Grip on Me

by Abigail Davis


Your grip on me
was not solid. Not steel
or iron or wood. But tendrils
of smoke that clung
to the innerworkings
of my soul, attaching themselves
to my patterns
of thought, blurring
my memories, suffocating
my hopes and dreams, and
hazing over my reality.
 
 
* * * * *

Abigail Davis is a preschool teacher living in North Carolina. Her poem, “Where Love Died,” can be found in One Page Poetry’s 2023 Anthology. She has a passion for expressing emotions through writing whether it be poetry, journaling, or short stories. Her joy is found in seeking solitude in nature, as well as witnessing the antics of her two beloved cats, Tylee and Azula. 

 

The Funeral

by Bhanusree S. Kumar


My aunt’s body
Lay on the porch
Beneath marigold wreaths
Left by guests and kin.
The crowd was sparse
As she bequeathed
Only chiffon sarees
And a plywood desk.
A few socialists
Carried the corpse
To the backyard pyre
To complete the rites.
Once her bitter son
Lit the wood,
The crowd dispersed
For tea and snacks.

The next morning,
A priest prepared
Ritual rice balls
For ravens to feast.
They were doused in ghee,
And served on plantain leaves,
With flecks of sesame
And rings of durva grass.
The ceremony ended
With the priest receiving
A scanty fee wrapped in
A crinkled betel leaf.
 
Meanwhile, the spirit
Relished sweet manna,
Free from onus,
Beyond galactic time.


* * * * *

Bhanusree S. Kumar is a writer from Kerala, India. Her poems have appeared in The Gorko Gazette, Topical Poetry, Lakeview International Journal of Literature and Arts, The New Indian Express, Lions’ Voice and Heart-Bytes. Besides writing, she enjoys listening to classical music and dabbling in watercolour painting.

A Troubling Memory

by Bhanusree S. Kumar


When the kettle whistled,
my mother jolted from her reverie
and hushed the flame
with a swift, anxious sweep.
In the living room,
guests awaited the festival's remnants—
sweetmeats arranged with precision
on ornate silverware.
Her hands, unsteady from neuropathy,
balanced a tray of katlis,
while daintily adjusting the shawl
that concealed the bruise on her neck
from the previous night’s scuffle.
But when the cloth slipped
and bared the wound,
the crowd took to pretence
and indulged her husband in
a discourse on highway traffic
as if violence were banality.
When the house quietened,
I rushed to bed,
hoping sleep would alchemize
the grim tableau
into art with gravitas.
When the world dissolved,
my lookalike appeared
with a red balloon,
only for a buffeting wind
to snatch it away
from her tender grip.


* * * * *

Bhanusree S. Kumar is a writer from Kerala, India. Her poems have appeared in The Gorko Gazette, Topical Poetry, Lakeview International Journal of Literature and Arts, The New Indian Express, Lions’ Voice and Heart-Bytes. Besides writing, she enjoys listening to classical music and dabbling in watercolour painting.

 

 

The Little Ballerina

by Susan Isla Tepper


who became an American, officially,
a few years back
went to visit her Mama
who still lives in Russia.
The little ballerina, adopting
American ways,
wasn’t easily deterred by
autocracy run amok
like the pigeons in New York City.
Americans can say things
out on the street
without fear of being arrested and
jailed. The little ballerina
was sent away
some 700 miles from the capitol.
She has one small window
in her cell, a sink
with cold water,
one cold shower a week.
The lights in her cell
turned up 24/7.
The little ballerina has days of hope
and days of despair, says
her boyfriend pleading on TV.
They gave her 20 years.
She seems all but forgotten.

* * * * *

"The Little Balllerina" was first published in Galway Review (April 2024) with illustration "Joy" by Judith A. Lawrence https://thegalwayreview.com/2024/04/08/susan-isla-tepper-judith-a-lawrence-the-little-ballerina/

Susan Isla Tepper is a widely published writer in all genres, and the author of twelve books and two stage plays currently in some form of production which changes periodically according to the covid stats. Her latest novel titled ‘Hair of a Fallen Angel’ was just published by Spuyten Duyvil Books (September 2024). www.susantepper.com

Judith A. Lawrence was the editor/publisher of Lilly Press and River Poets Journal for several decades. She is also a prolific painter, and writer of fiction, memoir, and poetry. Originally from Philadelphia, PA, she now resides in Florida. She has published five chapbooks of poems, written a volume of short stories, and a recent memoir titled “Point of Comfort.” She is currently completing a murder/mystery novel and a book of short poems containing her watercolors, under her nom de plume Juniper Rue.