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The Death of Barabbas

By John Poch Poetry

Rebel, but you cannot refuse. The son of the father or son of man could be anyone. You win some, you lose. Rebel, but you cannot. Refuse to think or do, and still you choose. At the end of time, no one can rebel. For you cannot refuse the Son of the Father or Son…

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By Becca J.R. Lachman Poetry

At secret slumber parties, Ruth and Ruby burst out of back rooms transformed. Their own version of ascension: loosed hair fanning pubic bones, shrieking louder than the rest of us. No bonnet, no beckoning church. Strong legs in borrowed Levi’s, our lipsticks strewn through sleeping bags. § From stolen stacks of their brothers’ outdated films…

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