Close

time

‘Superheroes in PJs’, by Grae Salisbury

This is shocking.                 I am not an object and I am not broken but                                           the pain tells me differently.   This is chronic.               Why am I not adjusted yet?   It comes and goes, it’s all my consciousness                                                         or                                           all I want is to lie down.   And when […]

Read More

‘Flare*’, by amymillios.blog

I’ve slept through Christmas. I shiver and pull the covers over me; sweat, and throw the covers off. My head bobs with nausea as I hobble to the bathroom to pee. The cats stay away, though at some point I hear them sliding across the living room floor, chasing that knitted ball with the bell.  They […]

Read More

‘The Day That Never Ends’, by Mariana Gurgis

From our window, the clouds seemed static, frozen. Orange-and-green taxicabs drove through the slush six floors down. Tilly whimpered, buzzed for the nurse, asked for Dilaudid, whispered “good morning.” Swaddled in her sheets, she breathed hard. Phenolic air. She asked me how I was feeling. We lolled in our beds, our mothers asleep in their […]

Read More

‘Shooting stars’, by Marion Michell

Worst days pain ricochets like shooting stars with pinball crushes. Oh the love! Releases fiery goo when ramming rib, tooth, bone. Skull reels alone; body razed by frequent flyer flares, flags pushed here there, declaring consternation zones. Each smart begets another, emulates, and brass bands march in new-laid grooves, playing their loudest, most discordant tunes. […]

Read More