All at once, we quit smoking clove cigarettes.
Hot grinds
of afternoon coffee or any pocket (crest) full of moonshine—members only jackets
scatter the roof.             Dancing only
in cumulus leftovers while Christmas

presents all come back             onto our hands;
the same gifts we once unwrapped.
There’s not even a pen, & we all claim to be writers.
I even filed it in my taxes &
yes, there’s not even a pen.

J. Michael Wahlgren is author of Valencya. He lives in suburbia, Massachusetts where he wakes early for coffee & thinks about picking up a guitar which he has yet to buy new strings for.

:: more from this issue ::

Penthouse Girl

Marley Andino

For Today

Melissa Matthewson

Today I Fought the Urge

Jane Huffman

The Literary Life of My Vagina



Robert Long Foreman


Bob McNeil


Elizabeth Tannen


J. Michael Wahlgren