Two Poems by Laura Goldin

Lake House

Smell of the cold pine.
Sound of the runners walking up from the lake.
Being a daughter means the world began before you.
            Sound of the screen door banging.

Sound of the drowned girl’s sandals on the gravel path.

            She isn’t thinking yet of water.



Out for a walk this afternoon
I saw children playing
their uncomplicated games in snow.

Sunset. The cold comes through
that one cracked-open window
where the curtain holds the fading river light.

Up from the street a man’s thin tenor
sings some half-remembered tune.
I think of you, who will not sing again.


Laura Goldin is a publishing lawyer in New York. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Right Hand Pointing, Driftwood, Molecule: A Tiny Lit Mag, Club Plum, Blue Heron Review, The Spoon River Poetry Review, Bellevue Literary Review, and The Comstock Review.

Three Poems by Claire Taylor

yes, it’s probably because of climate change, but still

I like a garden of tulips
sprung too soon
speckled with ice in February


A Winter Meditation

move slowly
these days linger
in the pause
between seasons
everything breaks
down beneath fallen leaves
a promise: frozen ground
softens the earth
turns over
starts again


A Healing

post-storm we find a towering maple
collapsed on its side. the City

comes to clear the way
slices trunk and limbs to restore

the road to normal but
they leave the roots

behind, ripped from the ground
and pointing skyward like

hands in prayer

a year later
I walk through the park


and find the roots
have grown over

moss and vines cover
every inch

a new ecosystem


Claire Taylor is a writer in Baltimore, Maryland. She is the author of a children’s literature collection, Little Thoughts, as well as two micro-chapbooks: A History of Rats (Ghost City Press, 2021) and As Long as We Got Each Other (ELJ Editions, 2022). You can find her online at and Twitter @ClaireM_Taylor.

February, 2021 — by Donna Hilbert

February, 2021

In a fit of hope, I wash and press white shirts
hidden in the hamper since last March.
I order lipstick, and a see-through make-up bag
with hooks to hang on any random perch.


Donna Hilbert’s latest book is Gravity: New & Selected Poems, Tebot Bach, 2018. She is a monthly contributing writer to the on-line journal, Verse-Virtual. She is eager to resume leading in-person workshops and hugging her friends. Learn more at