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Globes

By Robert Fernandez Poetry

Son’s / net-/ works / / veins under / the skin / of the dark / / call / see/ knock! / / a chandelier / glows / in the dark

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Floodlight

By Robert Claps Poetry

Our bare hands redden as we work, / he high on the ladder cutting the old / connections, and I drilling / outlet hole through the siding.

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Locket

By Robert Cording Poetry

You carry our son in a locket
you hang around your neck

each morning, a way, I guess,
of carrying what isn’t and what is

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