February 2026
-
The poem is not the words though the poem is made of words
by Hilary Sallick This morning a silver cat appeared outside my window its second visit in two daysIt stepped from the roofof my neighbor’s shedto the trunk of the mulberry where it clungagainst gravity raptby the nearness of a squirrel downward-hanging easyin its tree The catheld on and met those eyes with its ownThen the Continue reading
-
Jaundice Baby
by Sukayna Davanzo Sunflowers but not their seeds. Sunsets, sunrises, the sun, some brands of suntan lotion. Bananas, vanilla cake, the inside of a mango. Melted butter, melted butter dripped over fried cauliflower, finished with a squeeze of lemon. Gold, hay, most corn, maybe wheat, pineapples. My favorite bottle of lemon-scented Lysol. The stereotypical rain Continue reading
January House Literary Journal 