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Maggie Mountford's Pick: Moving As It Gets by John Grey
The moving van is in the next door driveway.
Neighbors I barely knew
are loading boxes, sofas, dining room table,
into the back... Debi Orton's Pick: Shared Smoke by Debbra Mikaelsen
Louise was a thief, but she didn’t look it. She fingered a
silk scarf, watching the older woman (late fifties,
precision haircut) examine a cashmere sweater. The stranger
wore a smoky blouse, a storm-colored raincoat slung over
her arm... Roger Paris's Pick: Mr. Potato In My Head by Derrick Lin
When I was younger, my mother explained to me that I
had a dirty potato in my head. She tilted my head on
her lap, took a cotton swabbed Q-Tip and gently
prodded and probed, cleaning out the earwax as I held
my breath in fear... Vanitha Sankaran's Pick: I Saw Her In the Park by M. E. Barrett
i saw her in the park
sunbathing nude
on a fuzzy and tattered wool blanket
she was weaving bare copper wire... David Shapiro's Pick: Mother's Day Ruminations by Stephen D. Rogers
Imagine no opening sentence, no first break from the white space, no sharp contrast to the emptiness that came before. Possible — yes — but think of the loss.... -
Didi Wood's Pick: Tomato
by Clint Meadows
It’s Two-Minute Date night at this bar you hate,
where you’re shoved with someone of the opposite sex
for two minutes and then forced to move on. The idea
is that if one of your two-minute prospects seems to
be worthwhile, you get their name and number before
time is up and then you call them later....
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