c o n v e r g e n c e:
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Authenticity by Jennifer Lothrigel

AUTHENTICITY by Jennifer Lothrigel

by Viola Weinberg

That day, warm and wet autumn
Standing under a broad
Brown velvet Borsolino hat
Hands entwined on the bridge

Moments later, we were married
Facing each other, I was flabbergasted
By the hydrangea behind you
You faced the Japanese pond's koi

Our friends walked in step
With us then, gone now
Tourists of all nations surrounding us
Garlands of applause and ringing bells

Through the satisfied air, big loops of love
Gorgeous bonds and voluptuous gardens
The stuff of poets dreaming, the heavy
Heads of chrysanthemums bowed in prayer

WILD DATURA by Allyson Seconds

WILD DATURA by Allyson Seconds

by P.M.F. Johnson

How bright your hair, in the plain morning after
you perform your monthly ritual
of color, red as long as I remember,
though honeying toward blond at times. (You're called
to change by some womanly instinct, a visual
shading off from the dull, the over-familiar.)
It's not hiding the truth, exactly: we all
know our place on time's implacable meter.
And hate it. I too admit I've raised my shoulder
to stave off age's prods, made ale of my failure
and shrunk despair into a voodoo doll.
But you protect for me the vulnerable
spot, the grey, the tender. You make us both tough
through shared laughter, heaven's bright stuff.

GOT AHOLD OF ME by Stephanie Lakos

GOT AHOLD OF ME by Stephanie Lakos

by James B. Nicola

The feelings weren't wrong! If I've learned one
thing, it's that Feeling isn't something right
     or wrong, but is what is, in spite
of the facts. It is Imagination

that errs with its creation. I imagined
an open, flowered field's green, welcoming.
     A place attractive as a thing
expansive. Not one where a soul is chained

and all one can do is rattle and shout,
neither of which produces guard nor key—
     at least that seemed the case with me.
That you were in the cell while I was out,

I never dreamt. I therefore ask your pardon—
and ask my Imagination to yield
     the jail myth for the open field
where love need never howl, but grow a garden.

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