A Clandesence of Angels

I live in the lavender gut of a horse, a beating heart just beyond the wall. And beyond that two old ladies sip tea on a white porch in the crabapple South, hoping for something that might squirrel up out of the ground, the age-old ground, the Southern ground, the ground at the top of a hill: a thin line of angels listening all boneless and hospitable from above, managing nothing with their tiny, modest, angel hands, hands that might just as well be days of the week. The long-gone Civil War is wearing a small red-and-gold cap once worn by an organ grinder’s monkey.

Date

R.J. Zeman is a poet from Dunedin, Florida. He is a 2007 graduate of the Creative Writing program at F.S.U. Date I stare at a birthday card and smoke a Pall Mall. Thirty nine: all the pretty girls grew up, got married, got divorced. I see their pictures on Facebook; smiling lips, bags under green […]

Rm 403-A

Emeniano Acain Somoza, Jr. considers himself the official spiritual advisor of his roommates, Gordot and Dwight—the first a goldfish, the other a Turkish Van cat. His works have been published in The Poetry Magazine, Moria Poetry Journal, Fogged Clarity, Everyday Poem, Loch Raven Review, The Buddhist Poetry Review, The Philippines Free Press, Troubadour 21, […]

Six-Pack

One night while Tim was camping with his brothers, Shauna and Katy arrived on Becca’s front steps, each with a six-pack in tow. “We wanted to make sure you weren’t holed up in your pajamas and talking to the cat or something,” Shauna said. The girls sat on a blanket in the backyard drinking beer […]

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A Clandesence of Angels

Date

Rm 403-A

Six-Pack