Spring 2008

Table of Contents - Vol. VI, No. 1


Poetry    Interview    Translations    Fiction    Book Reviews

Linda Cable


Shut Eye

All that racket!

No use shooting
Cricket ....Cricket....
billions of them.

Not much ammo.
Got to consider that,
plus the time.
The time -
Gotta get some shut eye.

Now the slamming starts;
car doors -
back door -
heart valves.
Bill's damn dog
gonna stop yapping.

Gotta think about the law,
while a gravel truck
off loads in the back of my head.

Still fingering the solution,
As it gets lighter

In my hand -
gun metal


Mama's Boys

I heard she lived here,
in her best mind, stirring
her fruit in hot black pots.

Her season came again.
Rot borne of her,
with the head of a wolf.

I saw her. Mad at the window,
pounding on the peeling sill,
tearing curtains with her teeth.


© Linda Cable



Poetry    Interview    Translations    Fiction    Book Reviews

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