Next Time
by Carol Westberg An eagle, the boy said, or a loon. Next time I might be moss or stone or a stream carrying on.
Moon
by Betsy Sholl It all comes down to one day glowing, one day gone, one day haloed mother, one day the hag, scythe in hand. So, what throw of the
Hit & Run
by Betsy Sholl It wasn’t a Mac truck wanting me dead, just a blue car, young woman on the phone. Good, Biene — Biene — the license plate read. At