Gnashing Teeth Publishing

| words that get in your teeth

The Big Protest in DC by Rajnish Mishra

Four, the number of their guardian angels,

is also the number of those who died.

They shot one in her neck.

She fell on to the ground.

The protector of peace sent his tweets:

“stay peaceful”, said his handsome face,

Onlookers screamed for help while she bled

on the ground slowly, surely, fatally.

Some said, “It was a dark day for democracy”.

He said, “go home”, the fraudsters stole our victory.

The police had yelled “Get back” yet she

just “didn’t heed the call”.

The public emergency was extended,

to ensure peace and security.

It was a grievous fault.

She answered for it with her life.

BIO: Rajnish Mishra is a poet, writer, translator and blogger born and brought up in Varanasi, India and now in exile from his city. His work originates at the point of intersection between his psyche and his city. He edits PPP Ezine and writes at https://rajnishmishravns.wordpress.com/

Relevant cover letter: ”

Dear Editor

Please consider my experimental poem– “The Big Protest in DC” for possible inclusion in your publication. As a concerned citizen of the global democratic system I feel concerned about the happenings in your great democracy…”.

young woman with red hair smiling at the camera with a white paper umbrella behind her

like pretty tulips by linda m. crate

everything has been hard and heavy, as of late; in my world and the world at large— so yesterday i was drinking in small wonders like pretty tulips dancing out

What I Can Offer You by Rich Orloff

I cannot fix your pain I cannot solve your problem I can’t prevent the sorrow you’re feeling Or even guarantee I’ll make you smile However, because I’ve known Joy embracing

by Natalye Childress

*this poem is in .jpg to preserve formatting *this is the unformatted text of the poem after rainer maria rilke you, the poet, have become world weary, word-wrought. and god

guy with a dark beard and moustache wearing a black graphic tee

Orchards of Udders by Jon Wesick

dripped on the blanket while air rustled tamarind trees. Chekhov drank a Thai iced tea and plummeted out of this poem. A flock of circles twittered in the hacksaw bushes

connect

we love hearing from you. tell us everything

Skip to content