Carl Sagan Called Our Planet – Carol Smallwood

Carl Sagan Called Our Planet

a pale blue dot—since most,
being covered with water, made
it look blue in space—
but what makes water blue?

The answer follows more
patterns than why the sky’s blue:
a question often asked by
young children.

Carol Smallwood returned to college to take creative writing classes and has founded humane societies. Her 2017 books include: In Hubble’s Shadow (Shanti Arts); Prisms, Particles, and Refractions (Finishing Line Press); Interweavings: Creative Nonfiction (Shanti Arts); Library Outreach to Writers and Poets: Interviews and Case Studies of Cooperation; Gender Issues and the Library: and Case Studies of Innovative Programs and Resources (McFarland). 

When I Was Little – Sara Smith Andress

When I Was Little

we were so poor
my mother would water down the ketchup
and I learned that there are two options:
to leach the last remnants from the bottle
and risk being spread too thin,
or leave the clumps behind,
and eat eggs plain.

Sara Smith Andress lives in the Florida panhandle with her husband, two daughters, and fifteen chickens. She teaches composition and literature to community college students.

A Certain Kind of Cleanse – Lindsay Haber

A Certain Kind of Cleanse

In my fantasy, my ex and I are wrestling in pudding, or Jell-O, or applesauce. We sprint towards each other, tackle—aim below the knees, claw and pull and punch and kick, all without being the type capable of leaving scars. We release aggression that’s been simmering like a bare shoulder in July heat. We scream our how the fuck could you’s and our I should’ve knowns while slipping and sliding and licking the sweet taste of sugar off of fused skin.

When it’s all over, we rinse in separate showers and walk in opposite directions. It is serene. This sloppy dance has cleansed us.

Lindsay Haber teaches in the First-Year Writing Program at Emerson College. She has work forthcoming in The Normal School and Booth. Her writing has appeared in Print Oriented Bastards, FiveontheFifth, Gambling the Aisle, and 365 Tomorrows. Her story ‘Clean’ was awarded second runner-up for Folio Magazine Editor’s Prize and appeared in their Spring 2017 issue. She is thrilled to be a 2016 nominee for the Pushcart Prize. She is a Jewish woman, lover of the outdoors, canine enthusiast, and current Boston dweller, trying to figure out this thing we all call life.

Love – Madeleine Gallo


When he told her she was a work of art,
he did not mean that she was a work of art.
What he meant to say was

you remind me of a time when I was seven-years-old and my mother took me to a museum in the city. Dad wasn’t gone yet and Mom still smiled and all was okay. On that day, I saw a painting of a mermaid playing on the shore, her woman’s torso on the sand and her amethyst scales underwater as the sun struck her in brilliant, golden lines. She was more fluid and alive to me than my own body. In that moment, the painting and my mother and my youth together sculpted within me a collage of splendid color, and now you too have evoked my mind’s rainbow.

He called her a work of art — she called him a pig.

Born in Radford, Virginia, Madeleine Gallo is a Virginia Tech graduate and currently a first year MA student at Wake Forest University. Her work has appeared in Susquehanna Review: Apprentice Writer, Fermata, Sun and Sandstone, Belle Reve Literary Journal, The Pylon, Into the Void, and Rattle. After graduation, she plans to pursue a PhD in Contemporary American Poetry.

2 Poems – Andrea Capere

To Consume a Woman

The subtle chew
or pilfered sip
I am gnawed
To cherry stems

The slightest hand
A magic trick
Refusal springs

Wrenching bow
Against violin string
Pulled taut

There used to be a warning
A glorious airshow
Now resilience is battered
Worn By nicety
And benefit of doubt

With curiosity I observe
Gazelle made lion’s meal
Necklace made noose
I barely notice
Your walls closing in


No Measure in Loss

The whole of me becomes a wash
undoing sense
abandoning ideology
I cease the politic;
the economy of reason
I am pleasure, wine, meat –
torn from yesterday’s meaning
Here I am
speaking in tongues
believing in ghosts
doing what I said I never would
with fervor
with reverie
I welcome you home
tell you about my day
weep in that solitary space we could never fill
and toast those bitter ashes of you

Andrea Capere is an emerging poet and filmmaker living in Tacoma, WA. She’s been published in college publications Trillium (Tacoma Community College) and The Matrix (Pacific Lutheran University’s Social Justice Literary Magazine).