19-50



Kisses

Rain kissed,
sun kissed,
the final kiss of death.
A send-off kiss,
a come-home kiss,
kisses stealing breath.

Kiss the princess;
kiss the frog;
a Judas kiss of truth.
Blow a kiss,
Eskimo kiss,
kisses in a booth.

Kiss and tell,
kiss the dust,
kiss the pain away.
Steal a kiss,
kiss my grits;
a kiss to make him stay.

by Arvilla Fee

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Arvilla Fee has been married for 17 years and has four children (two grown, two at home). They live in Dayton, Ohio, where Arvilla teaches English Composition for Clark State Community College. Writing has been a passion of hers since she was just a kid. She often poured childhood angst into poems about getting dragged along to yard sale after yard sale after yard sale! She's been published in numerous magazines, including several college campus magazines while obtaining her Bachelor's and two Master's degrees. What she loves most about writing, though, is the sheer power of words—the ability to make people feel joy, sadness, strength or anger. Finding the right word for a poem or story is like finding the five dollars you didn't know you had in your pocket! It's glorious! (so says Arvilla).

19-49



If

If you can fake a 4-F due to "bone spurs,"
With a podiatrist who rents from Dad,
And never go to war and win your own spurs,
But boast of dodging STDs instead;

If you can mock a Muslim Gold Star family
And decorated heroes like McCain,
And brag of "knowing" ISIS, oh so hammily,
But what you know, you never quite explain;

If you can tweet the soldiers out of Syria,
Betray the Kurds and leave our allies flat,
Till neither men nor mad dogs can be near ya,
But you've still got a tweet worth two of that;

If you can try to save your reputation
With a quick stop for selfies in Iraq,
Call the troops "suckers," give out their location,
Insult the country's leaders–to their back;

If you can dress in costumes and play Army
While getting every single detail wrong–
Your name is Drumpf. The whole world knows you're barmy,
And playing Chief Commander. Not for long.

by Cheryl Caesar

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Cheryl Caesar lived in Paris, Tuscany, and Sligo for 25 years. She studied at the Sorbonne and taught literature, phonetics and "civilization." She teaches writing at Michigan State University in East Lansing, demonstrates, reads and publishes protest poems in the U.S., Germany, India, Bangladesh, Yemen, and Zimbabwe. facebook.com/bindiwankatterpi

19-48



Blue Girls Revisited

Styling in your leggings, wildly designed,
Strutting to classes in your modern schools—
While texting. Roll your eyes at those old fools
Who think they're so refined.

Toss back the pink extensions in your hair,
And think no more of SATs at all.
But plan to meet BFFs at the mall
To shop for earrings there.

Make duck face selfies while guys who watch dream
about your lovely, well-toned flesh so tight.
It will sag some day, bringing no delight—
in spite of firming creams.

You think I don't know beauty, but I do!
I know a woman with a poison tongue
and beady eyes that used to be bright-blue.
She turned heads near and far when she was young
and surely knocked the shine off all of you.

by Janice Canerdy

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Janice Canerdy is a retired high school English teacher from Potts Camp, Mississippi. She has been writing poetry for over fifty years. She especially enjoys rhymed, metered poetry and gets a real charge out of parodying the famous poems she once shoved down her students' throats (while  assuring them that studying such noble literature would greatly enhance their lives).
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