Tag Archives: January 2020

Night Drive
by Suzanne Rogier Marshall

The broken yellow line disappears
into the dark ahead. My rear-view mirror—
boundless black, trapped

in our mother’s womb, each other’s
arms. Trapped in a shared bed, your dark
rages, you drew a line, dared me to cross,
hurled angry words at me: I hate you.
I hate you. I wish you were dead!

You stalk my dreams, crouch in shadow,
clench scissors, knives, things that cut.
Strike. My screams
wake me. A blinding glare,

headlights fill my mirror, larger,
larger, beams on high, the past
lunging forward. Sister,
you overtake me in the night.


Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 21, Issue 4

Suzanne Rogier MarshallSuzanne Rogier Marshall taught English to middle school students for nearly forty years, publishing several professional articles and a book on teaching poetry. Her poems have appeared recently or are forthcoming in Heartwood Literary Journal, Up North Literary Journal, Portage Magazine, Watershed Review, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, and other journals and anthologies. She is the author of Blood Knot, a chapbook published by Porkbelly Press in 2015.

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Winter Woods
by Emry Trantham

I never dream of winter woods, though there is
space enough for us here, clear air fit for exhaling
into mist, whistle-thin around my neck.

I hear what is here; a bird three regrets away,
trilling a melancholy something. A creek in
the gulley, bubbling cold and tugging chords.

A breeze whisping the tip of a birch, a lone
leaf landing on the littered floor. What is left
is silence—no snapping twig beneath your

boot. No branch pulled to your heavy scarf, flinging
itself backward as you pass it. The forest floor
is still. I look but cannot find your breath

melting upward, expanding to smoke signals
whispering what I already know—there are no
dreams in winter woods too sparse to fill a hope.


Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 21, Issue 4.

Emry TranthamEmry Trantham is an English teacher in Western North Carolina, where she is raising three daughters, taking pictures, and writing poems. Her poetry has been published or is forthcoming in The Adirondack Review, Rust + Moth, Blue Mountain Review, and Noble/Gas Qtrly. She is also 2019 Gilbert-Chappell Emerging Poet.

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by A. M. Brandt

What rewards the body the body
a soldier / the body a name / a holiness

before sleep. Say you understood / say
nettles say feathers / say holy and mean

ancient / say homeward and mean gone
each shore-light falters / say my apologies

to your salt / oh lord / do not take yourself
to trial there are days / there are signs

in the dirt / whatever was meant
by the road is known only by the road

the mountain chase / the desert chase
the lake all rimmed in millweed

what child, what comes and should
I ask for the match / should I say please

days flame up like oil / please / I may beg
say that word / in my ear say it / so close say it

so I’ll know whatever is given is received.


Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 21, Issue 4.

A.M. BrandtA. M. Brandt’s work has appeared in The Southern Review, The Sewanee Review, and the National Poetry Review, among many others. A native north-midwesterner, she teaches at Savannah College of Art and Design in Savannah, GA where she lives with her husband and daughter.

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