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Lazarus

By Ricardo Pau-Llosa Poetry

What but poverty earned him your respect that when our fates were turned he is called to act as cruelly as I did then? Lot’s wife turned back in shock, in pity perhaps, and for this she was robbed of flesh and name. Why plant in us the startle and curious glance to countermand that…

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Confession: Quaker Meeting

By Tara Bray Poetry

From my car I watched with dread the woman who had raged at the meeting, condemned us all, heading toward the car I’d nicked on the way in. My daughter hiding in the back, “I’m scared” coming from the balled-up shape of her. Trembling a bit myself, I got out of my car as the…

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