Frida Berrigan: Preparing for Scarcity
The truck wheel’s inner tube was right in front of me, no longer half-submerged in the pond’s late summer muck. After so many hot weeks without rain, the water had dried up and the garbage was completely exposed.
September 25, 2025 · 4 Comments
Beth Copeland: Pyre
Enough wood for a bonfire, I say, recalling the night
we torched a dead Christmas tree, drinking white wine and dancing
around the leaping blaze and the dark morning I burned your love
letters in a metal trash can outside, drunk and weeping, liar! liar!
August 17, 2025 · 8 Comments
Uttara: Fire
As dawn was breaking,
wisdom rose in the east—
and set fire to the long dark night.
December 2, 2022 · 2 Comments
