ripples in the soup bowl

when you’ve traced your secrets into the sand
with a spirit’s hand at the water’s edge
is when the tide washes in to wash it away
& now no one on earth will have ever known you

when your face can’t be a part of this world
at the ripple & quell of a wishing well
your reflection does question former times
where no one said you could be lovely

& you’re wondering why you had to obey
when you did not wish to hold a gun
& you’re wondering why she bothered to stay
when you could not put bread in her hand

those men lined up at the soup kitchen
were never allowed to be more than hunters
with dusty hearts & those lifeless eyes

when grace extends only so far as merit
don’t be so loyal to your suffering
they’ve laid claim to your life without consent
& indentured you to kill in the name of

when disgrace has felled you for the last time
when the muffled gunfire burns in your lungs
when you wake into your funeral wreath
beyond the subatomic algorithm

& you’re wondering why you had to obey
when you did not wish to hold a gun
& you’re wondering why she bothered to stay
when you could not put bread in her hand

those men lined up at the soup kitchen
were never allowed to be more than fodder
with dusty hearts & those lifeless eyes

you can love like no one owes you
you can give however you want
but no man can bend forever
the men lined up at the soup kitchen
were never allowed to be simply human
no man can bleed forever

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024

udderly stellar

once upon a time
one professional dairymaid
lost her temper
and abandoned her job
(if you’ve ever had a repulsive boss
you would understand)

she walked down the road
and saw a lightning flash
this was her awakening
and a new job offer

now she is a lead
in the milky way dairy
looks after the galaxy’s cows
expresses star milk
and never raises her voice
to juniors and colleagues

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2024

acanthus and graffiti

that city was tricky and loved the dead end sign
but for those who knew, it was e’er a passageway
‘tween sticks of tired buildings pretending at trees
to mountain vistas yonder tired men’s dreams
for those that dared creaky boards o’er abysses
dared to leap along ridges of breathy abandon
the arms of poseidon awaited to enfold them
to convey them to rest in the mariana trench
and there, o’er the dilapidated city wall
with a huge azure unblinking graffiti eye
a briny crown of plumes with duplicitous sparkles
received the tired orisons of artless denizens

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024

GUEST POST // Back at the start by Whitecatgrove

We return to the beginning, stripped
of our knowledge and rank, bound in white:
a shroud, a swaddling blanket, a bride’s veil,
a drawer stuffed full of rags and bandages.
Trussed up in white and left naked by fear.

The brutal say I don’t learn anything —
that’s why I no longer seek the brutal
as teachers, their blood my blood, their hiss
and spit so familial. Let gentleness
teach me these most difficult lessons

that I must begin again, without rank
or honor to learn a gentle way.
Or perhaps it is the easiest
of tasks: drop your knowledge, begin again
a blank page awaiting a love song —

by WHITECATGROVE
© All rights reserved 2024

life, death & rollick

maybe we can all be pretty
& live our lives in sumptuous sin
the world’s troubles all so petty
ain’t worth a wrinkle on our smooth skin

futility is the language of
those who damn themselves
let’s make sprees & merry whoopees
over the slough of despond

& even when old age outruns us
ageless wonder inside shall bloom
we’ll indulge in all the fun and fuss
ignore that tired-from-waiting tomb

futility is the language of
those who damn themselves
let’s make sprees & merry whoopees
over the slough of despond

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024