HUNGER Two boys and a dog jumped the fence to steal an armful of apples. To tell it later, those long summer days were the best of their lives. Over the hills they rambled, jousting the sun, dreaming kingdoms in the corn. Talk of ships sailing for blue lands, where hunger never was, filled nights of stars ripe for the naming. Left to their own — father off somewhere, looking for work or a drink — mother home with sister and chickens that never laid enough eggs to keep a family going -- pantry nearly bare, two masonjars of tomatoes, half-sack of corn-meal, and a tin of tartar sauce. There was time and scarcely time to write in years what followed — how the old hound bayed her last, and broad seas claimed the younger brother, and how the lands beyond the blue held hunger enough. It stayed with him, that boy who grew from story to story, keeping the best parts, trying to make it all rhyme. W. Luther Jett (Montgomery County, MD) is a retired special educator. His poetry has been published in numerous journals as well as several anthologies. He is the author of two poetry chapbooks: “Not Quite: Poems Written in Search of My Father”, released by Finishing Line Press in 2015, and “Our Situation”, released by Prolific Press, 2018.
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Then and Now …we’re beginning,/each one beginning —Aaron R In the Eden of imagination, it is early evening… insects wheeze and buzz, glad for the cool, and a barefoot woman in a soft cotton dress walks lightly on damp grass. She’s in an orchard, and her hand reaches for the reddest apple. Its sweet juice and crunch explode joy in her mouth. There is no taste like this and no punishment, for it is all happening now and the orchard is real, planted on a vacant, city lot in the middle of our country by a woman named Countryman. It is a kind of Eden, where anyone can walk, pick pears, figs, apples, peaches, berries too, in their season—all free—and why not? asked poet Ross Gay, who joined this good work, while in other cities, communities are finding abandoned parks, forgotten school yards and, yes, they are planting orchards with the knowledge we were born to….knowledge we can eat. Patricia Gray (Washington, DC) writes fiction and poetry and teaches Creative Writing at The Writer's Center's downtown campus in Washington, DC. Her poetry collection, Rupture, was published by Red Hen Press. Comfort Food Lentils and barley, water and salt, split peas and pasta-- pure to a fault-- stir until clouded, season to taste, boil and then simmer, nothing to waste. Greens can be added. Time's on a loop. Towers have toppled into the soup. Cauldron of comfort served with warm hands, this is a recipe crisis demands. Author of Humor Me ( 2006) and chapbooks including Genetic Revisionism (2019), Claudia Gary (Loudoun County, VA) is also a health and science journalist. She teaches at The Writer’s Center (writer.org), FAES (FAES.org), and elsewhere. See pw.org/content/claudia_gary, @claudiagary. Then There Was No More I take the apple, bite into it as its flesh touches teeth-- the noise catches his attention turning, eye to eye I swallow slowly to hide my cache-- his eyes plead and I offer half of what is left, savoring his gift he nods in gratitude, then another hears the flesh touch his teeth-- eye to eye he offers half of his cache, the other nods in gratitude-- then another hears the savory chewing, but now there is no more to share Robert L. Giron (Arlington County, VA) is the author of five poetry collections and two award-winning anthologies. His poetry has been published in three recent anthologies, covering: gay poets, poets from around the world and Latino poets in the Washington, DC area. Finishing School Teach a man to fish And he will eat, Will stuff his face Like baked flounder, Full to bursting There are so many fish Teach a fish to man, To sprout stump legs To slither-crawl Suck air To hop-stand-run To sprout hair Thumbs To hunt, wage war To fish! And he will consume the planet. His scales will fall like coins, The cost of transformation But the scales will never fall from his eyes, And he will never again feel the fins That once propelled him In concert with his brethren Though skull be widened, He cannot be trusted For he is just a fish And it is unwise to teach A fish to man. 6 August 2019
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PoemsThese poems were recognized at the 2019 WFD Poetry Competition ArchivesPoets
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