The Anniversary

by Guhan Santhanam Tracing breadcrumbs on a cloudy sky, Searching footprints in pouring rain. A brail , a cane , a best friend, To stammer down, memory lane. Past with present, is a strange infusion. Sights of a father, with eyes of a son. When your laughter,carries no noise. Your sorrow , no tears. You regress to fall, but stand in bloom. Memory treasure hunts, will measure the distance; Between you then, And you now. Sculpted moments, flash. From the journal of a saga. Overwhelmed, unprepared Ghosts of the past, could never open doors. Would leave a window, to a time that was. Horizons of the past, caress your grasp. Horizons of … Continue reading The Anniversary

The Pale Knight

by Deckard Croix “You’ve slain me,” Cried the felled white knight, His armour rusted with age; A mirror to reflect his better days. The history of this figure is now. For, in his better days, there was nothing new; No lie he insisted was true, No war remained he failed to wage, No price conceived that could not be paid, No maiden that did not need saving. And now, upon the brink of the coming night, The course of the day being done, Staring at the last glimmer of dusk in fright, Blinded by the husk of a perilous sun, Consumed by the thought, a feeling, that … Continue reading The Pale Knight

The Care Givers

by Ron Yazinski To get from my car to my mother’s house, I have to step over the chalked body outline of a young girl. She and her little brother are preparing for adulthood By tracing each other on the concrete. I am careful not to smear the chalk. As I sit down next to her on her porch My mother rolls her eyes. On the neighbor’s porch is the grandmother, Red-​​faced and smoking, flicking the butt of her cigarette Into the grass where months of others lie. In the distance, black clouds announce their approach With a crack of thunder. “Get in here … Continue reading The Care Givers

Mickey

by Ron Yazinski Faith is deep here. Legions of invalids are presented in their wheelchairs– From the priests pushed by nuns, To the painted ex-​​stripper who was hurt in a lap-​​dance mishap. It would cost as much to travel to Lourdes, But here they are assured, at least, Of rolling to the front of the line at Space Mountain. Others have brought their infants in strollers To touch the helm of the characters as they parade by, Only to hear their screams at the size of Bashful and Doc. His consoling three-​​circle presence Like a Venn diagram is everywhere; From the stains a coffee … Continue reading Mickey