Landing

If we hadn’t been watching them for years, pondering their moves, their moods, their governments; if we hadn’t probed several of their species, and winced when they inflamed their planet; if we hadn’t seen the hatred they exacted upon each other, and the disregard they displayed for the welfare of other life, we might have shown them patience, and considered their plea for refuge, when they landed their crude spaceship upon our soil. But we had seen too much, and knew all too well what they were capable of—and so we slew the humans as quickly as we could.

From Guest Contributor Wolfgang Wright

Wolfgang is the author of the comic novel Me and Gepe and the forthcoming science fiction novel Being. His short work has appeared in over forty literary magazines, including Dark Yonder, Oyster River Pages, and Paris Lit Up. He doesn’t tolerate gluten so well, quite enjoys watching British panel shows, and devotes a little time each day to contemplating the Tao. He lives in North Dakota.

Stella

Stella longs for the unseen soul who one day will meander into her home to touch (perhaps envy) each of her precisely placed gatherings.

Thank you, dear God, above, for the patience it

has taken to assemble and position these

precious things.

Yet she feels clumsy. Sees herself as a whale in a thimble’s sea of mire.

Then comes the moment when that perfect stranger appears as her savior, but Stella is not here to celebrate the gentle man with sapphires where his blue eyes should be, pale cream velvet fingertips to tally all her particulars, then bind her estate.

From Guest Contributor The Poet Spiel

The Watchmaker

He had become a master in the arrangement of all her beautiful pieces.

A lifetime of experiencing his shattered dreams had made this so.

With patience, he would file down or build up their broken parts until two pieces fit together as one.

His hands of meticulous love removed the heart from his chest and gently placed it within hers.

She raised her head slowly and smiled.

His head sagged downward as he did the same.

With that, she rose, exiting the tiny room.

Opening the door as the sun burnt her eyes, but the pain only lasted a moment.

From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster

Patience Is The Hardest Virtue In Life

Blessed be the Gods that bring forth the life I’ve longed for in this grove I thought I’d decay in. Even Warriors have weakness—an Achilles' heel. Mine: the matching Fates tread to be woven with my golden strand.

The battle, memorable, left me stripped of my armor and shield. Broken and defeated. Among bare trees. Their roots burrowing down constricting me, but I learned to live with the pain.

Over a decade, I’ve waited for destiny to come home. Embrace me with open arms and a genital kiss. Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos, you knew he’d come back for me.

From Guest Contributor McKenzie A. Frey 

Walter

Walter was one of those fellows that if you saw him putting a nickel into a beggar’s cup you knew it was just a blind for taking out a dime or quarter. So when he offered to take care of everything for me and another friend we didn’t have to be clairvoyant to know that he was scheming.

Walter was living proof that friendship between two people depended upon the patience of one. Some friends aren’t really friends at all, just a good actor. Even with all his faults, the most difficult thing I ever said to him was goodbye.

From Guest Contributor James Freeze

The Good Neighbor

He waves from across the street, leaving, working nights again. Smiling, I return his wave. She watches him from the doorway, my gaze goes unnoticed.

Twilight passes, darkness falls. Lights go out in their upstairs window.

Patience. Give it time.

Minutes passing like hours.

Thinking back. Their vacation had been great, thanks for feeding the cat. Glad the new key worked.

It still works.

I fixed that squeaking door and creaking stairway for you.

Standing watch beside her, so lovely sleeping. She deserves more attention.

Sure, I'll keep an eye on the place while you're on graveyard shift. My pleasure.

From Guest Contributor Mirshaan.

Mirshaan has a BFA in Education. He loves words.

Listing Fear: How to Tell You That I Want

If the bear sits next to the wombat, and a stinkbug bats his lashless eyes at some roundness near a deer, how do I tell you about longing? The robin is silent, the rooster’s belly is a curve under fog, and I am too timid to explain what I want. If the same bear drops his fat genitals onto the pond, water too still, no one wants to look. Your patience is a woman with her voice down low, as if lined in wet fur. And this? This is me practicing, wide-eyed, my mouth a dusty O, palms spilling candy.

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.