I Come Back Mid-Fall
Whatever it is that holds the chloroform rag to my mouth at midnight and goes out came back Saturday morning inside my snooze-bar dream as a white fox,…
Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant
There are still the worst minutes of the dream where the dust scatters. Too much light. Too much music. Your body—realized, but unseen—just what an amount of milligrams is…
Unto the Third and Fourth Generations
Where can you get a decent graven image these days? Disobedience is no longer what it was. Don’t you have a few thin ones jingling in your pocket…
Ode to my IUD
After all that, menstruation, parturition, and one unmentionable visit to one of those clinics in Murray Hill in the nineteen nineties, you doodle on in and do your…
Killing Mr. Big
The old tom sank his claws and tried to leap from the steel counter, but I held his scruff and nodded to the vet who murmured, For the…
2017 Pushcart Nominations
Salamander is so pleased to announce our 2017 nominations for the Pushcart Prize: Poetry: “Abandoned Nest” by Angela Voras-Hills: Salamander #42 “Some Animal Poems for Children to Learn and…
Kathmandu Reverie
I slice the air on Freak Street into neat squares of night smoke: karma, master, nice legs, vision breath. The risen…
Canticle with Nightlight
The strangest sleep I slept was not beneath willows on twigs and brush and what…
Fiddler Crabs
They look too busy to retire. Or else some government has cut their pensions and they have no option but to remain industrious, whatever it is that they do,…
Molly’s Charm
"So much charm, and such a fierce flame," I woke up thinking I'd write on her card after I heard at work that she’d chosen hospice instead of further…
The Ballad of Gavrilo Princip
In this nation born of sacrificial smoke, born of vague bullets into an abstract heart… By the light of candles I read the history books and the consensus…