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Mercy by Quinn Miller Beyond the reach of mourning roots where the land is thirsty and quiet, a mountain leaves its shadow on the road of sharp turns. Around the bend, the scenery grows stark and more familiar, as I brace myself for the landmark up ahead. If I don’t look away, I’ll see the […]

They Try to Remind Us by James R. Merrill They try to remind us, all around us— tiny spirits breathing through leaves— living creatures with pinchers and wings. Open my front door, they crawl in, to remind me of the invisible forest that once stood here, under these floorboards. The bugs know; they recall the

The Bull by Nadine Fiedler On top of his dresser a hollow ceramic bull held what was in his pockets at night The bull eternally charged forward headed towards the closet with the pornography inside The sounds of the coins he threw into the bull felt angry to me felt as if he were trying

1st Honorable Mention: “Stage Four” by Jackie McManus, Lyle, WA 2nd Honorable Mention: “Someday” by Mary Theis, Talent, OR 3rd Honorable Mention: “Unraveling” by Norm Baxter, Salem, OR Judge’s comments In reading this year’s batch of poems, I was stirred with how, throughout the whole of these poems, resounds a clear and overarching note of

Gifted by Diana Morley Death comes sudden, so I hear, heart gives out or mishap: ladder tipped, car crash… Yet some lives linger, some die slowly—move closer day by day, one by one, no news—dying soft as they live on the go right to the last day when they know it’s time for leaving, for

The Prince: First Anniversary by Carolyn Martin She will not let it go: her narrative about shape-shifting steeds and bullying step-relatives. I’ve begged her to delete the past and re-compose her life. I can’t, she turns her back on me. Not now. Not yet. The fact is she electrified that night. The metaphor of lightning

Elegy for Hands by Susan Morse My hands are like a tree. Cut them open Expose the rings. Take notice, I tell you! Cupped upon my fingers, ten moons, each one unique with its own spots, mapped with imprints of this world, whole histories carved within. My left hand the sluggard, unlearned—the right, ambitious, pimp

1st Honorable Mention: “Full Moons” by Susanne Twight-Alexander, Eugene, OR 2nd Honorable Mention: “The Dandelion’s Rant” by Paul Telles, Beaverton, OR 3rd Honorable Mention: “Finding My Song” by Barbara Blanks, Garland, TX

The Porch in Summer by Lynn Robertson In the deep of heat, sides of laid-out dogs rise shallow-quick, their tongues loll limp, dirt crust fringes their foaming drool. Wasps circle haze, as if they were a crumble of leaves with no whisk of wind to carry them away. Like an old man’s temper a film

Abatement by Suzy Harris Against this hundred-year house, ladders rise up from one story to the next, and the paint is scraped away, bit by bit, exposing raw boards to the bright August sun. Men covered in white suits call back and forth like in a church, call and response. They build a chapel of