The Garden Statuary

Reflections of Venize: Frari poem by Murissa Shalapata With crimson Bardolino in hand I taste you, Venize your mind numbing routes of destiny like untangling knots of angelhairs in a hurry by the hour glass of spices that smell of sulfur, basilico, lemon and grass I paid little attention to your streets of uneven marble

Grief Pond poem by Maddie Gorman You watch the stone drop into the middle of a pond. There it is: the origin— the node from which all subsequent ripples birth. At the same time you feel the wind whistle through a hole in your heart. It aches like a sensitive tooth. The seasons pile on.