Dust off the gramophone, slap on your creepiest record of haunted-house sounds, and prepare to read our one-hundred-twenty-twooth issue in your best Vincent Price voice. With haiku from Tohm Bakelas and Arvilla Fee and verse from Sharon Kennedy-Nolle and Amy Wunders, this selection of bite-sized delights is suitable for even the most discerning trick-or-treater’s candy sack. Space odd-kitty cover art by Mya Woods.
Arvilla Fee
door hinges creak,
a widow
sips her tea
an alley cat pounces,
the dumpster reeks
of feast
ARVILLA FEE teaches English Composition for Clark State College and is the poetry editor for the San Antonio Review. She has published poetry, photography, and short stories in numerous presses, and her poetry book, The Human Side, is available on Amazon. For Arvilla, writing produces the greatest joy when it connects us to each other.
Amy Wunders
Still, held by the mortar
black tar as gritty as lava
after grinding against my cheekbones
pulling away the tender fat
off my hipbones.
Maybe it’s because I was singing
so exuberantly
or because you were panting
so heavily
that my windshield fogged.
Still now, my skin smeared
against the painted yellow lines,
a reflector at my eye line.
With a slivered peek
my vision strains to find you
my unbridled, unbuckled,
wild, domesticated, partner.
The relief tranquilizes me
floats me off into peace
as I watch you jaunt over
and lap up my blood.
AMY WUNDERS is a Poet and a Potter. While she loves the bustle of the LA city life, she also enjoys the attunement of mountain lifestyle and finds inspiration from both. Amy has been writing poetry since she was young and recently found the gumption to share her word-strings during the pandemic (thanks for something, covid).