Lost and Found

from s. k. nicholas

S. K. Nicholas

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There are footprints in the snow that lead me to a version of you I know so well. There are memories of who we used to be that don’t belong yet of which still linger. The hours pass in due course. The eyes of those I have gazed into during the dark silence of night- they still pierce my mind no matter how long the passage of time since I last knew them. But did they ever know me? It’s doubtful. Nobody has ever known me because my truth has never been allowed to flower. Well, not until the words begun to flow, and when they finally came, they were a personal Jesus for a personal hell, and although the struggle to speak has been a long and arduous one, to speak the truth is all we can do. There is no blame attached to what has come to be…

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all the beds are made – samantha lucero

from sam lucero

A Forum for Divergent Literature

when did you keep god under your tongue,
like
an uninvited pill
from that plastic nurse behind a wall,
masked
and reaching out to hand you an orange
mood
in a paper cup made in L.A.

for whom did your milky eyes blur,
or from whose unseen stare did the water
of your ribs buckle and hide
when you knew that worship was a mask we
wear,
that rituals and skin
give us a tendency to forgot how to say no?

i was born in a summer cage that sold
whispers to me
in body-sized trash bags, flung at donation
trucks where you wait and
where you drive up and pry a hole, pull out
unwanted secrets you can take home
and cherish as yours from other people’s
unglamorous lives; a boy scout’s book
on how to make a fire.
a girl scout’s book about how to cook on it.

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anything but love

https://duchessyork.files.wordpress.com/2013/05/paulson6.jpg?w=529&h=694

i can’t give you smoked salmon and french cigars,
or feathered pillows
and chocolate-coated marshmallows.
we won’t drift on marble floors
in candle-scented light
or anticipate the lace
that only comes out at night.
i won’t wear red soles or a single satin glove,
i can’t give you anything.
but i can give you love.

elixir eyes-Lois E. Linkens

my most recent piece on sudden denouement:

A Forum for Divergent Literature

she was snowdrops in the midst of summer;

unexpected, meant for another.

i liked to wrap myself inside her.

comely couples, dulcet tones:

who’s talking now? god knows.

she was my panacea

panted, see her – in my pandemonium,

she was quoniam.

she was the talisman

to the haggard man who breathed her in.

she was ebullience, magnificence –

she loved me, once.

she loved with her elixir eyes,

my evanescent prize.

she was lavender and boiling water,

milk and coffee sunsets

over a steamy city,

where the highway blinks in red and yellow,

high-road fireflies

buzzed in her elixir eyes.

ineffable, she bubbled like champagne in the foyer,

in white-gloved hands,

on silver trays.

she was patent leather over marble floors,

red cheeks and chapped lips,

water and wine.

she was fine,

a pearl for a pauper,

a mother for an orphan daughter.

her mind walked a craggy road,

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