The coffin where I keep my dead words is open. The jewelry box, pink like young skin, where I store trinkets is shut. The ballerina inside her pink tutu face down on her footed spring, waits for the hand that opens her. She must be tired, always rising [Subscribe]

Book Review: Jaws of Life (Laura Leigh Morris)

Laura Leigh Morris. Jaws of Life. Morgantown, W.Va.: Vandalia Press, 2018. 168 pages. Softcover. $18.99. Laura Leigh Morris’s debut collection of short stories, Jaws of Life, focuses on characters from a small town in West Virginia. Morris, who has had her fiction published in The Louisville Review, Weave Magazine, and other journals, gathers together some gems from…


Who will make Your long bed, Smooth your grass quilt, fluff your stone pillow? Who will tuck the dry dirt under your chin, sing in my place in the songless night under bright dots of light in the dark, curved sky, sing Willow? Sing Willow. Sing Willow.


I ask the tree to register Me and it stings— What for…? Some ridiculous itch Nibbles, hails hate Hiding plain, insight A twitching Claw-gripped pendant Fixed against its Bark lapels. A glimpse and this Network exposed, An almost Ancient urge to lick or for A loam and petrichor Scent, s’il…