Share on facebook
Share on twitter
Share on linkedin
Share on email
Share on stumbleupon
Share on email

The Invention of Bullets

Before:

one death at a time,
slow. killer watches
choked gurgles +
wonders what is severed
within- the soul or the
body? tomorrow-
or is it now?-
blood leaves the killer’s heart
dull, lacking oxygen.

During:

another one, nearby.
i startle when the classroom
door opens, transforming my B into
a hybrid, non existent letter. i keep
a baseball bat behind my desk
and memorize which crawl spaces
fit the most preschoolers.

After:

I cannot imagine such a thing,
not with blood splattered
cereal boxes. I cannot imagine
such a thing, not with more bullets
than ants. I cannot imagine such
a thing, not even within the boundless
capacity of a poem.

Bio – Hannah Rousselot (she/her) is a queer French-American poet and author. Her poetry has appeared in Parentheses Magazine, Kissing Dynamite, The McNeese Review, and The Blue Nib and others. She has published the poery collections Fragments of You (Kelsay Press) and Ocean Currents (Finishing Line Press). She is the winner of the Gateway Review Flash Fiction Prize. She also reviews other poet’s works on hannahrousselot.com and is the host of the podcast Poetry Aloud. You can follow her work on facebook.com/hmrpoetry or @hannahrousselot, or hannahrousselot.com.

Redacted Relationship – Keith Hoerner

  Bio – Published over 200 times in 100+ literary journals / anthologies, Keith Hoerner is founding editor of the Webby Award recognized Dribble Drabble Review, as well as a

Cefn SIdan Beach

Cefn Sidan Beach – Alex Grehy

Cefn Sidan Beach The dunes curl and undulate like wet macaroni, a carnival of textures, mutable, moulded by weather, the sky painted by a moody artist, unable to decide between

Linda M Crate Author Photo

let me taste the light – linda m crate

let me taste the light let me disappear into the forest, let me hope again; as the creek water washes away every worry and the trees lend me their kindness

Ukraine bombed building

NYKOLIA – PW Covington

NYKOLIA He wrote of the war The way that A poet’s daughter Writes of suicide ‘The shells are still falling As I’m cooking breakfast.’ He posted ‘These are the last

connect

we love hearing from you. tell us everything