A Catholic Church

By Royce Jeffrey
The sign outside proclaimed: -CHURCH PARKING ONLY- God Forgives. Kowalski and Sons Towing does not. Father Timothy would’ve smiled.

Scattered Ends

By Elizabeth Hampton
She was looking for a new age shop in Covent Garden. I told her to go to The Astrology Shop on Dean Street. It had a good reputation.

Photo Story: On the Last Day

By Colin Lubner
On the last day, we will open our door, step into the still air of uncreation, and watch the sky unfurl. ...


By Valerie Maloof
When your husband has Dementia, he dies twice. The first time he dies the most. His soul and brain go first. So what’s keeping him alive? Oh yeah, his organs.


By Jonathan Penner
See how, like bees, wedding guests swarm eager groom and tired bride, like pilgrim bees, their hive too populous, that ascend at suntopped midday...

Back to the Water

By Rhonda Houser
Water might save you from drowning. Ceaseless, impassive, water echoes what you know...

Photo Story: From Here to Dallas

By Nicholas Cook
In the beginning the city stopped, now it moved too fast. He was taking that job in California. “I love you this much,” he said, holding his hands out like the length of a textbook.


By Heather Bourbeau
We were born holding hands. The same amniotic sac held us, our shared world safeguarded. Our first trauma was not being born, but the cruelty of doctors...

Mt. Airy Resort, The Poconos, to North Adams, Mass.

By Reeves Keyworth
Jilly, darling, if ever you are tempted into wedlock, I advise you to skip the honeymoon excursion—stay home & take long walks instead! It is ghastly here.

Ice Bucket

By Landon Godfrey
I sing to you of special decades and the gullible among you believe you’ve missed parties given by moonbeams trysts in coat closets with fedoras...


By Jason Peck
A book of names, five months before the birth, and I suggested Abigail for the baby. A full name, three soft syllables; a Hebrew word, meaning “my father rejoices.”

Photo Story: The Four Horsemen

By Dan Slaten
The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, like all popular quartets throughout recorded history, eventually turned into three.