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Gun Buck Before Dawn-Fiction by j. brooke
Grunt-Fiction by Kevin Z. Garvey
A Stab in the Dark-Fiction by Gary Clifton
Run, Robby, Run, Part 2-Fiction by Kenneth James Crist
Surprise Me-Fiction by Cindy Rosmus
Here They Come-Captain Jack, Part 2-Fiction by Michael S. Stewart
Evolution=Crime-Fiction by Calvin Demmer
Bike Killer-Fiction by Doug Hawley
Home on the Range-Fiction by Liz McAdams
Tickets to Heaven-Fiction by Paul Heatley
Free-Flash Fiction by Andrew J. Hogan
I Hate Dave Matthews-Flash Fiction by Carolyn Smuts
The Journey-Flash Fiction by Oliver Lodge
Running-Poem by Meg Baird
in your shoes-Poem by J. J. Campbell
At Midnight-Poem by Sergio Ortiz
Roadkill-Poem by Rachel Doherty
Skinny Dendrix-Poem by Joe Balaz
poet-Poem by ayaz daryl nielsen
Shy Dryad-Poem by ayaz daryl nielsen
Someone Else's Cat-Poem by John Doyle
Sundays-Poem by John Doyle
Farewell, Bibi-Poem by David Spicer
Rolling Down the Highway...-Poem by David Spicer
No One Ever Asked Winslow This-Poem by Gregory E. Lucas
The Adirondack Guide-Poem by Gregory E. Lucas
Why Back to Gloucester, Boys?-Poem by Gregory E. Lucas
Cartoons by Cartwright
Hail, Tiger!
Angel of Manslaughter
The Gazing Ball
Strange Gardens
Gutter Balls
Calpurnia's Window
No Place Like Home
ALAT
Dark Tales from Gent's Pens

img4677.jpg
Art by Ann Marie Rhiel 2017

running

 

by Meg Baird

 

 

running the last mile

 

walking and talking with him

then running to avoid

the feared parking ticket

running to run away

running just to run

 

staying on track

we’re parting ways

here’s to the days

we thought would never end

my friend

 

but the parting

is in the future

I walk in my years

strongly beside his frailty

I’ve always loved his joie de vie

 

he’ll be tired

just getting home

hospital bed in his living room

how ironic words can be sometimes

 

now he’s drinking

“in his cups” as he likes to say

happy enough in his own way

along with a menagerie of drugs

dying, he said, is a full-time job

along with lucid dreaming

loss of short-term memory

loss of appetite

anxiety, some panic

visual effects that turn the room

sideways or upside down

all normal, the docs tell him

if he fears anything

it’s being alone at night

those wee hours are frightful to him

can’t say I’m brave enough to stay

 

torn between standing in his way

and whispering in his ear that it’s ok

run Tom, run

 

anyway

I’ve told him

I wouldn’t stay

not at his apartment

anyway

 

he’s in bad shape

his ship is sinking

submarines

are one of his fantasies

go figure

 

Stevie, his friend

from across the hall

before he got evicted

now still has a warm place

he’d been running errands

for Tom for months

a real sweetheart with problems

this could get interesting

 

 

 

Meg Baird can be found in the ezine archives of Yellow Mama, Anemone Sidecar, Open Heart Forgery, Apollo's Lyre, and Prachya Review as well as the paper publications Fluidity, CV2: Poetry Only, Expressions, and Fourth Floor Images. She enjoys performing in cafes, libraries, bars and special events. Poetry, her own and that of others, has saved her life on more than one occasion. Say no more!

In Association with Black Petals & Fossil Publications 2017