If I Drink the Violets, by Ronda Piszk Broatch you must hold the glass, in case I become a fever of absence. In my old version of creation, our cosmos was birthed by another cosmos. Which makes me fortunate, otherwise Johnny Rotten would never have let me on...
Night, and the Coffers are Empty by Ronda Piszk Broatch —Mary Ruefle When darkness seeps in I keep my wick trimmed,my juices wrecked with fear. These are the days I live in a house of cards with vodkaand lime. It’s Monday morning, I’m seconds from sex, the...
