Smoke Alarm

Scanning the desert of a tabletop,

suave falsehood of wallpaper,

the smoke alarm hovers

austere as an eye,

reassuring as a phone number

memorized in childhood—

then numbers lose

their corpulent charm,

sirens their small-town blare,

rescue turning Prime Time

and fire, a living thing,

ready to thrive.

By Lynn McGee

Luxury

Luxury.

A second cup of coffee

And morning turns to afternoon.

By Jeremy Jennings

Nymph

Yes, I found stones in the river.

Yes, it rose to my shoulders.

Yes, the river took.

Can you blame me now if the shore has

its charm?

By Sabine Miller