Response Poems 

Time

by Tammara Or Slilat

Time peals all wounds. Meticulously

In pre-appointed dates: birthdays, anniversaries, memorial days.

You lick your wounds, saw them up with a needle

of forced joy, but even when you think

you're just going blackberry picking

you suddenly find yourself staggering

at the bottom of a hidden cliff – that tiny

inescapable change in your mother's voice

when she proudly counts her grandchildren

and comes down To 12

minus one.

Desire

 by Barbara Philips

desire drips

veins distend

a child cries in a cave

within fear far away

beneath all that lies

swaddled

voice screams, forbids

yet it looms

cables shadowed

draw the IT forward

gleefully dragging probabilities

it comes