Susan Bee
“After Rainfall”
Response

Cicatrix
By Barbara Duarte Esgalhado
Inspiration piece

Cicatrix: 1. a scar resulting from formation and contraction of fibrous tissue in a flesh wound.  2. a mark resembling a scar especially when caused by the previous attachment of a part or organ as: a mark left on a stem after the fall of a leaf or bract.
Webster’s Dictionary

Start at the edge
use a fingernail that’s long
enough, to lift the edge
of crusted flesh
cloaking a healing wound.

Keep working at it
pick at it, slowly
so you can minimize the pain
that comes as you flinch
when dead skin is torn away
from flesh that remains alive

Keep tearing at it
a little at a time.

Work your fingernail down the length of it
pry it loose, you’ll wince
and flinch some more
until the skin just hangs there

— just hangs there –
midair — looking for a place to land
and disappear from your memory.

Look for fresh cut wood
remember that aromatic cedar
preserves and keeps away useful creatures
that gnaw away, help disintegrate and
facilitate decay.

Remind yourself that you don’t want to
preserve any of the remains.

Choose pine instead
it’s softer wood
slice the wood into planks
shape it into a coffin of sorts
simple lines are best.

Nail the planks together
lay the memory inside
already mummified
in the murmur of your heart.

Hammer the coffin shut
put it in the ground
surrender it
to the swirl of the earth

this is your goodbye.

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Seth Leamer
“Meat Goat”
Inspiration piece

From “A Brief History of the Seventeenth Conflict”
By Amy Souza
Response

First reference to the meat goat can be found in the 26th century, soon after The Conflict. In far back history, goats were said to be important for milk and meat. Their skins were often used for clothing, musical instruments, or to carry the beverage once known as wine. By the time of the great migration, however, goats had lost their significance and become merely pets. During the migration’s second wave, an eight-year-old boy (Patrick Elba, Jr.) from the Low-Thirds Colony, packed his pet goat in a breathing chamber and attempted to sneak it past HSP. When sensors went off, Patrick’s father stepped in and claimed the goat as his own. As punishment, HSP guards laser-carved chunks of the goat’s flesh—while the goat was still alive—forcing child and father to watch. They then turned the laser to the elder Elba’s hands, dipped them in freeze-a-lite, and attached them to the goat’s ribcage. History books say the father refused MedStop and both he and the goat perished before reaching the new world, but some claim both survived and that the elder Elba went on to found the dissenter group NCHF. Traditional organizations claim the meat goat as a symbol of man’s impotence to stop the forces that consume all living beings. They say the creature’s stoic expression serves as a reminder to remain humble, and its sliced-up body indicates that we, like the goat, are not in control. Teachers often warn children that the meat goat haunts reckless people, while alternative groups have claimed the creature as a symbol of strength and perseverance.

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Barbara Duarte Esgalhado
Inspiration piece

Worrying Lack of Context
By Amy Souza
Response

The man next door is shaped like a vee, his bottom so skinny it’s a wonder he remains upright. At the grocer’s the man wears glasses behind the register and a wig when serving meat. Windows in the background let us think we can escape. But in the end, there are no secrets–your pot belly, his freakish middle toe. Skin dries and recedes and hair seems to keep growing, even after breath is gone.

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The Answer Is Usually No
By Amy Souza
Response

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Barbara Duarte Esgalhado
Response

Attachments
By Amy Souza
Inspiration piece

The dog. Breathing. Walking. Long-billed birds
on a feeder outside the kitchen window. That sound
the heater makes when it turns on. The squeak of old
floor boards. My graying hair.

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Note: All of the art, writing, and music on this site belongs to the person who created it. Copying or republishing anything you see here without express and written permission from the author or artist is strictly prohibited.

Tora Estep, pastel on paper
Response

Paralysina
By Crossley A. Simmons
Inspiration piece

There is no allegro
in a child’s dream pirouetted accident.
Tutu discipline drowns pink
and now I am abled less than.
To be bunned and pointed
tights of freedom
we fell in company with attitude
and batterie, quick to cross avant self-conscious
behind melodies.

Pas over jargon stages
we were just leotards and glittered eyes
holding nervosas off ‘til the toes callus
bleeding starvation and the broke repetition

of crutches.

Forever seen as | | but I remain pink.
Hot pink
re-learned speech and walk to a ten-year
waited jump.
I want the pain of the dance in my spasms
migraines
hands capped by their refusal to unfold.
Bravura, hide my never.

Note: All of the art, writing, and music on this site belongs to the person who created it. Copying or republishing anything you see here without express and written permission from the author or artist is strictly prohibited

This Choice
By D. James Quinn
Response

Two trains depart from different origins, their destinations unknown. The one carries a cargo while the other does not. The cargo-burdened train intends to ferry its cargo to the ends of the earth even if it means the train’s destruction. The other is not bound by any such mission; it carries passengers, it moves from stop to stop with a regularity and saneness. But the two trains shall share a stop midway on their journey, and for a time the passengers will intermingle. But time is short for the train carrying its cargo, thus many of the passengers from this train shall overlook an opportunity to stay at the intersecting stop out of fidelity to the mission.

Little do the passengers of this cargo-burdened train realize that their mission will be a failure. They do not realize that inevitably the cargo shall be stolen, and with it their hopes for reaching the ends of the earth. Their train shall arrive at the intersecting stop once again on the miserable way back. The passengers aboard, distraught, shall disembark at the stop.

What if by chance the since-free sister train should encounter its now-beleaguered friend? What if the passengers decide to stay and talk awhile? Could it be argued that this is a lesser choice, second in value, and made more awful by a compromise of virtue? Or is this choice their salvation, that in standing still on this effulgent arc they renew their senses, regale their spirits, and take up a truer burden they shall carry on to that merciless edge?

Tora Estep
Inspiration piece

Crossley Simmons
Response

“Fondo Blanco”

Across Broad

narrowed in the skyline

is the sidewalk we met.

A cobbled market sitting and I thought you saw my eyes.

Shut in abandoned bricks

dreaded with tourists’ pennies

I couldn’t stop.

Buttoning up lies, the street is lost and hidden in the glue dripping down your face.

Wipe high the windows

neither asked nor driven

sniffing funds to fund sniffing.

I wanted to hold your hand around the bottle

reading the textbooks afforded American,

de los Estados Unidos, and wrap into your

smog coated lungs.

No gracias, Señor/senior/senator/some lo siento/

Christo stood still

forgetting leaves

and went back.