All Articles by admin

744 Articles

Sappho Collaborations:
But I To You
by Eileen Moeller


In the dream you asked me for love,
but I, to you, of a white goat sang instead

How she climbed the rocks
and couldn’t get down,
how her bleating called the wolf out,
gave him a hunger,
her scent sliding lightly
toward him on the air

Tell me this doesn’t scare you,
as you put the ripest fruit
in these two glasses,
and I will pour wine over it,
pour it for reverie,
and forgetting
about what lurks
in the shadows

Give me a moment
Then ask me one more time


Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 20, Issue 4.

Eileen MoellerEileen Moeller lives in Philadelphia. She has an M.A. in Creative Writing from Syracuse University. Her book Firefly, Brightly Burningwas published in 2015 by Grayson Books. A chapbook titled, The Girls In Their Iron Shoeswas published in 2016 by Finishing Line Press.

See all items about Eileen Moeller

Visit Eileen Moeller’s contributors page.

Incantation for Akimbo
by Jen Karetnick

For awry

For aslope

For askew

For shaped into a crook

For throwing an awkward elbow

For the handles of jugs

and impertinent teapots

For sharp-pointed

For bow-bent

For the etymology of battle

(in common use)

From Old Norse to Middle English

as applied to spear, spike,

dagger, goad, hook, anchor,

axe, knife, sword—

Let us assign such a context

to the weed of a kitten

seeded in a car engine

After the flowering of pistons

and spark plugs

After the pluck of crankshaft

Not a wound

but a weapon

Not an amputation

but an argument

A stiffened extension

of spine canted at an angle

also meaning bold


Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 20, Issue 4.

Jen KaretnickJen Karetnick is the author of seven poetry collections, including The Treasures That Prevail (Whitepoint Press, September 2016).She is co-editor of SWWIM Every Day. Find her on Twitter @Kavetchnik. More at


See all items about Jen Karetnick

Visit Jen Karetnick’s contributors page.

Timely Ghazal
by Alison Stone

Things you can’t control—love, weather, grace, time.
My favorite cliché is race against time.

Like an undertow, her phone sucks my teen
daughter into YouTube, Snapchat, FaceTime.

Our elm’s branches brought the power lines down.
In darkness, distortion of sound, space, time.

Time may change me—Bowie’s cranked-up voice
drifts from a passing car—but you can’t trace time.

She let her hair go silver, wears her lined
face without shame. Her motto—Embrace time.

Death is a salesman, shoes worn from peddling
silence, blank brochures, a briefcase of time.

My mother’s cancer isn’t novel. Nor
is yours. Our worst griefs commonplace as time.

In the high-tech future, will metal eggs
grow children, computer code replace time?

Focused on Eternity, poets tend
to lateness, sloppy with lowercase time.

Miss Havisham’s stopped clocks. White Rabbit’s watch.
Welles’ machine. Classics, a showcase for time.

Not all wounds heal. Not Columbine, Sandy
Hook. Not Parkland. Some don’t erase with time.

In a dream I float between stones and stars.
Wake with wisps of another name, place, time.


Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 20, Issue 4.

Alison StoneAlison Stone has published five poetry collections, including Ordinary Magic, (NYQ Books, 2016), Dangerous Enough (Presa Press 2014), and They Sing at Midnight, which won the 2003 Many Mountains Moving Poetry Award. She has been awarded Poetry’s Frederick Bock Prize and New York Quarterly’s Madeline Sadin award. A licensed psychotherapist, she has private practices in NYC and Nyack.

See all items about Alison Stone

Visit Alison Stone’s contributors page.