Nikoletta Nousiopoulos is a mother, wife, and poet who resides in Southeastern Connecticut. She published all the dead goats in 2010 with Little Red Tree Publishing. Some of her poetry has appeared in Tammy, Pioneertown Literary Journal, Thin Noon, Meadowland Review, and others. She is taking some time off as an adjunct professor of writing […]
It happens like it does in old movies. Milo walks home down some winding country road, humming the appropriate John Denver song. Then, something moves in the sky. A shimmer. A burst of brilliant, cornea-scorching light. Next he knows, four metal walls surround him. He screamed for what seemed like days, naked flesh against cold […]
My sister and her second husband are screaming on the front lawn. She’s drunk, he’s drunk, and it’s Christmas—the season, not the day. The sky is its angry shade of Philadelphia wintertime gray and as the snow falls, it’s turning to rain. Outside, lit up by green and red and yellow Christmas lights, Lizzie is […]
I could have died that morning and no one would have been the wiser. The thieves fled on foot. Nobody chased them. She pointed the pistol at him and said, All right, you bastard, this is it. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and I knew she could never love me. […]
After Donald Keefe’s Lightwell (Au Sable Forks Papermill) (2016) Even with light beaming through the stilted arch like erasure, the old mill calls out its name in shadows, as shadows take occupancy in the fore and on the fringes, run the core cutter, feed pulp through the headbox, and reminisce in the sparse breakroom situated […]
Let’s fall down the well, kissing; take our time, sweeten buckets. Michael Hoerman is a poet from the Ozarks. He is the author of Bad Rotten (2004) and Disoriented Fascination (2018). Some of his more than 100 published poems first appeared in the Arkansas Literary Forum, Big Muddy, Chiron Review, Eureka Literary Magazine, Potomac Review, […]
Somewhere in the multiverse, somewhere past a black hole, I turn right at a silver asteroid and coast into the strings of a cosmic suburbia to find a house that looks like mine. I serve dinner to Charles and Leonardo who laugh when they see each other— looking-glass faces and beards, mirror minds bubbling with […]
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