Dreamland

The lake has an island that has a church on it with fine black cracks etched all over. It’s the place where disaster originated. Everything else has been declared safe for visitors. The sky is an orange I never experienced before. A smell like the rancid diapers of the spawn of Satan crawls through trees. A fox poses in front of a sign that says NO JEWS AND ANIMALS ALLOWED. Joggers, dog walkers, and parents with strollers slow down as they go past. I catch the expression on their faces, mostly a combination of surprise and puzzlement. Sometimes they smile.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is the author of two new poetry collections, The Death Row Shuffle (Finishing Line Press, 2020) and The Trouble with Being Born (Ethel Micro-Press, 2020).

Holding It In

Hannah’s entire life has been spent looking for the perfect bathroom. It goes without saying it needs to be clean. Spotless. No untoward odors or any hint of fecal matter. It would be best if the toilet had never been used. A virgin toilet made just for her. Someone might suggest a secluded spot in the woods but it’s probable that sometime in the history of the planet a creature had at least urinated on the spot. Diapers, as someone mentioned, are completely out of the question.

Someday, Hannah dreamed, she would finally be able to stop holding it in.