Floating

On the way to our waterhole, I noticed something hanging from my ballcap. Repeated brushing did not get rid of what I had thought was a spider on a thread. Checked eyebrows and eyelash – no. Eventually had to accept it was in my eye. Call to doctor sent me quickly to an ophthalmologist. I got my first floater but was relieved to find out that I didn’t have anything more serious wrong with my eye. I thought that it would dissolve by itself or there was a miracle laser that could blast it, but no. We’ve learned to live together.

From Guest Contributor Doug Hawley

Three Seals

With muzzles lifted towards the sky, they gather on rocks long dry. The sun touches down where water no longer passes by. Sable tips wash to marbled tails that tell of a time in the distant past. As wind sifts the sand nearby, it slowly edges them away. A golden plague bears their memory with a single name and details of their cause. For now, they pause as a simple thread meant to knit its way into today. When clouds darken the light, rain falls and remembers the familiar trails. It brings with it a mending unearthed by the dawn.

From Guest Contributor Kristi Kerico

Kristi is a psychology major at Pikes Peak Community College. She is studying to become a horticultural therapist. She currently works at a bookstore and volunteers at a zoo and nature center. She began writing after enrolling in a creative writing course at PPCC. She enjoys poetry the most, considering it's brief yet complex beauty. She also loves writing with a focus on nature.

Snow

The town plow thunders by with its single headlight. You listen with your eyes squeezed shut, imagining the snow that touches everything—sliding under your mudroom door—powder dusting the floor. You’re warm, curled up in an igloo of quilts; yet, your nose feels cold. You know the woodstove burned out after the late news—only a lingering scent of smoke drifts up the backstairs. You wake, uncertain of the hour’s shade of blue, and look up at the white ceiling where a teensy black speck of a spider scales a silver thread, finding its way in this uncompromising dark.

M.J. Iuppa

The Golden Thread Part Two

“What is that? I can’t see. Some sweet jungle flower. Are we getting close?"

"No, it is poetry, a copycat fragrance to lure butterflies. It is carnivorous. Stay back—"

"Those are my words on the vines! God, those electric blue letters! Let’s read—"

"Don’t—"

“Why? 'Once upon a time I died. I crucified myself on a ladder made from the bones of birds, hollow, not yet cleaned by cannibals or the sun, yet flightworthy by nature.' I wrote that."

“The vines will strangle you, make you blind, make you forget why you are here. And then you drop the thread."

From Guest Contributor Brook Bhagat

Brook’s poetry, fiction, non-fiction, and humor have appeared in Empty Mirror Magazine, Little India, Dămfīno, Nowhere Poetry, Rat's Ass Review, Peacock Journal, A Story in 100 Words, Anthem: A Tribute to Leonard Cohen, and other journals and anthologies, and are forthcoming in MoonPark Review and Almagre. She has completed a full-length poetry manuscript, is writing a novel, and is editor-in-chief of Blue Planet Journal. She holds an MFA from Lindenwood University and teaches creative writing at a community college. More at brook-bhagat.com

The Golden Thread Part One

“It’s too dark. I heard there are tigers in this jungle.”

“Yes.”

“Ordinary tigers?”

“Different. They’re faster, and their fangs have venom, like a snake.”

“What if we see one?”

“They will see you first. Just watch. Just be still.”

“How can we be still with tigers after us?”

“They’re not after us.”

“What if they catch us?”

“If you run they will chase you and they will catch you. They tear the throat, and the poison goes in the blood. It paralyzes you, makes you blind, makes you forget why you are here. And then you drop the thread.”From Guest Contributor Brook Bhagat

Brook Bhagat’s poetry, fiction, non-fiction, and humor have appeared in Empty Mirror Magazine, Little India, Dămfīno, Nowhere Poetry, Rat's Ass Review, Peacock Journal, A Story in 100 Words, Anthem: A Tribute to Leonard Cohen, and other journals and anthologies. She has completed a full-length poetry manuscript, is writing a novel, and is editor-in-chief of Blue Planet Journal. She holds an MFA from Lindenwood University and teaches creative writing at a community college. More at brook-bhagat.com