The Silence by Bobbi Sinha-Morey

Image by Ralf Kunze from Pixabay

In the out-of-sync silence
I watched in an aura of
wariness my drunken
mother alone in her room,
ashes from the tip of her
cigarette falling carelessly
in a shallow bowl of heirloom
china, an ugly dark hair on
her chin that stubbornly
stayed no matter how much
she shaved. Years of growing
up I'd seen her let out her
inner rage on me and my
father, leeching any happiness
that had clung to my bones,
an embalming of the spirit
that made me want to hide
away and not be known,
so used to my mute tongue,
too afraid to tell anyone.
It was only today, at this
time, my dreams had knitted
into a dark tie having grown
up with the belief that all
fears are permanent; that,
like bone fractures, they
would heal but leave a
hairline shadow.

*****

Bobbi Sinha-Morey lives in Central Point, Oregon, in the U.S.A. Her poetry has recently appeared in Vita Brevis, Cascadia Rising Review, Woods Reader, and Lost and Found: Tales of Things Gone Missing.

To the Finish Line by Fabrice Poussin

Finish Line by Andrew Hurley

In the thick crowd of suits and heels, she runs
the shadow is relentless on her tracks
imprint of the minutes passed on the asphalt
what is she trying to evade in the early mist?

Eyes transfixed on the vision of words to come
impervious to the cries for help
her glide continues in a vertiginous slalom
she feels a chill upon her fragile nape.

So much impatience, so little time to spare
and they pursue the beloved aura
in their spring dresses of flowers and love
she knows not to stop or slow for anyone.

Where does the path end, when will she find her peace
for the moment the unspoken plea remains unheard
as an apparition she floats without unanchored
while below cries beg for her to give solace at last.

*****

Fabrice Poussin teaches French and English at Shorter University. Author of novels and poetry, his work has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes, and many other magazines. His photography has been published in The Front Porch Review, the San Pedro River Review as well as other publications. 

The Greatest Clown on Earth by Susan P. Blevins

Pennywise - Jim Nix

Each morning he drags himself out of his sleepless bed,
already wearing the face of an angry primate, and with
bulging belly waddling before him, he lurches into the bathroom,
and the start of his daily ritual.
“You’re too old for this shit,” he grumbles each day,
scowling into his bathroom mirror.
He’s finding it harder and harder to hide his growing insanity,
though he keeps trying.  His washed-out blue eyes peer
back myopically at him from his ravaged face, which looks
as though it’s dissolving and subsiding, like those damn
glaciers scientists keep talking about on TV.
He shrugs his massive shoulders and reaches for his
makeup.  He’s always thought orange was quite fetching,
and made him look tan and buff, but now he’s not so sure.
The hair routine comes next:  the careful comb-over to
hide his baldness.  “Who am I kidding?” he mutters,
“But I will make the whole world laugh one day.”  He
has not yet accepted the truth that the whole world already
laughs at him, but with scorn and derision, not good humor.
He suits up and chooses his favorite tie, very long and very
red, his power tie, a talisman he needs more and more,
and sets off to watch Fox and Friends, before heading down
into the Oval Office for another day’s performance.