Rental Agreement

They were only pygmy hippos, she said, and she was planning to have them fixed. They were emotional support animals, one for each of her personalities, so there was nothing we could do about it. The pond became unspeakable, even though it was still below freezing. They floated there in the muck like ominous little storm clouds forming over smog. Trucks delivering their crates of fruit and greens continually blocked the driveway. Then one day their gauzy pink wings emerged. Angels, someone whispered, despite the aerial bombardment of neighboring gardens that now commenced. Then the local population began leaving offerings.

From Guest Contributor F. J. Bergmann

Slab Of Butter

James had few true pleasures remaining in his life. Time, divorce, and the company had taken most everything. His doctor seemed intent on taking what remained.

"You're going to have to cut out alcohol and fatty foods."

James stared down at his bowl of greens. Across the table, George was cutting into his steak. Steven, keeping it light, had a baked potato topped with sour cream, chives, and bacon. They both drank from judicious glasses of red wine.

"Can you pass me that plate?"

Ignoring the stares from his friends, James smeared a large slab of butter onto his salad.

A Letter After “N” On The Last Day Before Treatment

You are the hair against my belly, left too long in slick cooling foam. You are the pull of my arm as it leans closer to ground than shoulder. You are the gelatin near my breast where I am found waiting, one more time. You are sorted beyond shape, into one scent I'll accept, one I push heavily against, a reminder of reverse birthing, of what inside might mean if wrapped, warped by artifice and vivid yellows. You are this sweetness I take instead of a lesson—a cabbage of greens kept to hide the reds left in your leaving.

From Guest Contributor, Kelli Allen

Kelli Allen’s work has appeared in numerous journals and anthologies in the US and internationally. She served as Managing Editor of Natural Bridge and holds an MFA from the University of Missouri. She is currently a Professor of English and Creative Writing at Lindenwood University. Allen gives readings and teaches workshops throughout the US. Her full-length poetry collection, Otherwise, Soft White Ash, from John Gosslee Books (2012) was nominated for the Pulitzer Prize.