The Water's Edge

In the unlikely cadence of

noon live oaks slumbered

about the water's edge and

the inner applause of my

heart began, not caring to

cease while the world

seemed bathed in tenderness

in the warm, tempting hours

of spring.

By Bobbi Sinha-Morey

EROS

First

he came for me

with a whip,

then an axe.

Now

he just sends me

postcards.

By Askold Skalsky

gambling with poetry

dear editor

please consider my following poem

for your literary magazine

thanks so much

for putting up with me

and my incessant submissions

each time I cut and paste a poem

into the body of an email

and click SEND

I feel like a gambler

placing a bet on the roulette wheel

rubbing his hands together

closing his eyes

and thinking, ‘hell, maybe

this one will hit.’

then afterwards

I sit back in my chair and smile

imagining the day

when I finally take down the house

By Jackson Warfield

Question

You lie lopsided

posing a question mark.

Next to you, I too lie askew.

Bodies of two old buddies

by now so well versed

in their positions.

Too close, yet not close enough -

My once prince charming

is fast asleep, and I,

his once sleeping beauty

lie wide awake pondering

an infinitesimal crack in

love’s seemingly tight wall

open as a question one dares not ask –

By Rena Lee