My ficus, a foot in height--
Not sure if you’ve always
Been that tall--
But you’re just right,
Aimed where it’s bright,
Heeding the sun’s call.


Author Bio:
Rich Glinnen is a market researcher by day and a writer by night. He enjoys bowling, and drinking red wine with his cats at his home in Bayside, NY. He’s currently nominated for the 2017 Best of the Net Anthology. His poesy can be read in Kenneth Warren’s Lakewood House Organ, at foliateoak.com, petrichormag.com, and richglinnen.tumblr.com. His fiancé calls him Taco.

A heavy paralyzing fog
encircles, uninvited, every month.

Sleep, sex, sweets
help, but do not replenish.

Soon, spasms of the body 
will intercept the swelling of the mind,

and a bright new moon
will emerge from the ecstasy of the blood.


Author Bio:
Yevgeniya Przhebelskaya is a founder and facilitator of Bergen Poetry Workshop, an Administrative Assistant at Leonia United Methodist Church, and a blogger at ypoetry.weebly.com. She earned a Bachelors in Comparative Literature and Creative Writing from CUNY BA Program and a Master’s in Education from Hunter College. Yevgeniya’s poems were published in many journals, including First Literary Review-East, Time of Singing, and Soft Cartel. Yevgeniya hopes that her poems about suffering and healing will provide comfort to people around the world.

I am not who I think I am
maybe I’m someone
I don’t know or haven’t met yet
maybe I’m no one in particular
or everyone in general
maybe no one is who she thinks she is

I could be a walking cloud of dark matter
who happens to talk and eat and feel
who on good days thinks 
I know exactly who I am
who on most days floats through life
sucking in the light around me
as if I know anything 
about living or dying

each life is bought at birth
with a no-return policy
there’s no trial balloon
no re-takes
no do-overs
there’s only this moment and the next one
and the next and I can either
wait around for some sign or miracle
or Godot to arrive and
give me the scoop
or I can grab the day in both arms
hug the hell out of everything and everyone
and pretend
there’s nothing out there
to be afraid of 

​
Author Bio:
David James has published three books and six chapbooks.  His most recent, MY TORN DANCE CARD, was a finalist in both the 2016 Next Generation Indie book award and the 2017 Book Excellence Award. More than thirty of his one-act plays have been produced, and he teaches at Oakland Community College in Michigan. 

​It is amazing that we can get something as fundamental as breathing wrong.
I was told that the stomach has to expand when we inhale, not the chest.
To think that air entering and exiting our body can take the wrong route.

I was told that the thumb has to be outside the fist when we punch.
To think that we can punch wrong. 
Hurt ourselves in the process of hurting another.

I was told that we can get love wrong.
That we need to leave our hearts open to let love out, not just seek it in.
To think that we crave what we cannot give.

It is amazing how much we can get wrong, in the span of one breath.
How much can we get right though?


Author Bio:
Farheen Raaj is a writer for Gujarat, India. She writes to live and lives to eat. Farheen has edited for publications and worked as a creative producer for a national television channel in India. She enjoyed reading ever since she was in school, and a graduate degree in English Literature served to enhance that love. 

Farheen also works with a local NGO for youth development and speaks about Gender issues at large. Her love for a good cup of tea will always keep her awake, along with a penchant to seek out conversations about films.

For two years, my sister had sterilized white gauze pieces in a pressure cooker to pack his
two-inch-deep bedsores. Shaved his face. Trimmed his nails and hair. Extracted gunk from his gums.
Wiped and powdered his bottom. Inserted jelly-lubricated catheters, his fingers digging
into her arm. Emptied brown urine-filled bags. 
When the time came for Father’s burial, she was led aside. My brothers and male cousins
were assigned the task of washing and prepping his body.
“They don’t know how crumbs collect in the folds of skin under his neck,” she kept on saying
as aunts gathered her in their embraces.


NOTE: “A slightly different version of "A Daughter's Plea" originally appeared in JMWW Journal as part of the “In the Pocket” Issue, September 11, 2018.”

Author Bio:
Sara Siddiqui Chansarkar is an Indian American. She was born in a middle-class family in India and will forever be indebted to her parents for educating her beyond their means. Her work has appeared in print and online. She is also a Pushcart nominee for 2017.