Art by Andy Mister

By Patrick Whitfill 

Maybe there’s some great end game
I’m missing out on with this last
century’s revision to the nursery rhyme

about the baby stashed in a tree, but I
always thought, with kids, it’s best to lie
only a little. Point to the window,

say outside, because there’s nothing
about transparency they need to know
When my son noticed his shadow

the first time, we had a choice to make:
confess to what we don’t know,

Art by Bill Wolak

By Michael Montlack

Secretly we all want to strut like you, squeezed
into that laced-up leather catsuit, snaggle-toothed,
bleached hair teased into a cotton candy mess—
how easily you made Mae West pedestrian.

Shouldn’t we all have an Aunt Ida to guide us
in that purr simultaneously girlish and granny:
I worry that you’ll work in an office … The world
of the heterosexual is a sick and boring life.

Virgin Mary, Egg Lady,

Art by the author

By Jenna Cardinale

The stretched weight of a heavy
bag questions our unbalanced commitment
to sustainability.

An occasional table need not
display faded and framed photos
or a defined narrative.

A hangover can hang
over a whole day and
we should discuss fairness.

The funeral parlor passes
out promotional pens to encourage
brand loyalty.

            Just place your memories inside
            this deluxe lacquered box.
            There is a choice
            of colors.

Art by Andy Mister

by Daniel Felsenthal

Out of Time/Admiration

The toughest subject
to write on is time
Everyday I’m trying

I just run bone dry

Ba-dum where’s
That hi-hat?
A Hoover flag
Waves bare
In the pocket
Cue drums

For the meantime—
That soft word
For nervous hours
Put to pasture
We learn methods
To enjoy these
Summer strolls as
Cretinous wild
Childs starry and
Scotch-drunk.