The editors of Cider Press Review are delighted to be able to announce our nominations for the 2016 Pushcart Prize.
Each time I meet with God he is still singing and jealous of the way I’ve learned to speak with my hands. By autumn
from a line by John Sibley Williams Father’s fist still hurts from Sister’s face. This makes me weak like poison in the blood. The
Like riding a rusty whetstone: you pedal fast, the round stone chirring in frayed summer heat. Then, when you slide your thumb along the