By Kerry Loughman never budged becalmed she was bleached by sun & beached on relentless rise of blue water liquid leeched from her eyes her orifices her great mouth agape her lungs did evaporate Climate-changed her wishes drowned in sand Kerry Loughman is a retired educator and photographer living in the Boston area. [...]
As the Waters Rise O God, look down On all our drowned. Hear us, we beg— We’re on our knees. Sorry, so sorry About the trees, The polar bears, the birds, The bees; the icebergs Gone, the thirsty lawns, Plastic gyres, redwood Pyres and all the many, many cars. The eclipsed stars We never see. [...]
By Antony Owen I am the fox-flame in the wood jumping through snow an ember chased to extinction by lesser beasts. I am permanent as the moth in amber its patterns decided by the white sun its fate decided by the earthlings. I am the glass-blower’s lips’ creation to consume whatever is put in me [...]
By Emily Hockaday I sing to the water and lower my only child into the foam, wiggling toes first. I think about all the species the ocean held that I don't know the names of that have gone extinct this past year and focus on the sound of the waves and all the metaphors that [...]
By Dotty LeMieux Where are the birds of spring? I see bees—are there enough? Black carpenter ants—we never had them before— emerge from some dusky damp place beneath the foundation. We live in a house of cards. Even a bear takes exception to exceptional times and climbs a backyard tree he must have crossed mountains [...]
By K. L. Lord The delicate blooms, alabaster petaled and fragrant, sprout from gardens across the land, mingling with the peas and green beans. They are lovely, but they’ve never grown here before. The first person to find them thought they were carrots, but when pulled from the ground, tendrils of roots ripple through the [...]
