Ave Jeanne Ventresca

SELF PORTAIT / reading between the lines

in the background, rainy day people
walk through abundant sorrows. have
learned how to balance through early
morning wind, between thick cracks
of concrete and kicked cans of red.
feeling sad, heart in this noisy gutter,
another life lost to a sharp blade
in his back and
friends that failed
to understand. deciding not to report
what he witnessed, was a decision
he would live with, wear like a badge
on his denim jacket. hoping others
wouldn’t see. he attempts to read minds

of others, empathize with threadbare children
who are all alone. notice their shadows upon
the shoreline, like a novel with corrupt
antagonists, they shuffle across dusty roads.
durable survivors, all of them. whose entrance
and exist is of vital importance to read.

Ave Jeanne Ventresca (aka: ave jeanne) is an American/Italian poet, who delves into social and environmental concerns across nine poetry chapbooks. With a notable editorial background, she edited Black Bear Review and served as publisher of Black Bear Publications (USA) for two decades. A poem  from her latest collection, Noticing The Color of Ordinary, was nominated for the Pushcart Prize in 2019. Look for her poetry in lHRAM’s Literary Magazine.

Arvilla Fee

The Ballad of Returning Soldiers

If you look into my eyes
you might see a shade of blue;
I hope you notice in your hurry
that I still shed tears too.

Just because I’ve fought in wars
doesn’t mean I’m granted grace;
turns out when they send you home
you can lose your safest space.

Dead men often come a-knocking,
pounding on the door of dreams;
when I’m face-down on the hardwood,
I can hear their fetid screams.

I know you probably look at me,
a grizzly man with cardboard sign
and entertain a fleeting thought
before I vanish from your mind.

I truly cannot cast the blame,
for I was once like you,
things to do, things to see;
the day was mine to choose.

I guess the hardest part of all
is knowing I’m still here
while all others have forgotten
as though I have disappeared.

Arvilla Fee teaches English and is the managing editor for the San Antonio Review. She has published poetry, photography, and short stories in numerous presses, including Calliope, North of Oxford, Rat’s Ass Review, Mudlark, and many others. Her poetry books, The Human Side and This is Life, are available on Amazon. Arvilla loves writing, photography and traveling, and she never leaves home without a snack and water (just in case of an apocalypse). For Arvilla, writing produces the greatest joy when it connects us to each other. To learn more about her work, you can visit her website: https://soulpoetry7.com/

Gil Hoy

You Wouldn’t Know

he was my father.

I never knew him
very well
because he wasn’t around
when I was born.

You wouldn’t know
he married my mother
when she was just 16. That he
took my sister to the park
most Sunday mornings
so my mother
could sleep in.

You wouldn’t know
a lot about any of that.

That he was passionate
about lifting up the weak
and the poor
that he believed America
is a great Country.

You wouldn’t know
much about any of that.

You wouldn’t know
that he began to question
why we were there
before he died

that he forgave his enemy
who planted the mine
that blew off his leg
on a faraway field.

You wouldn’t know
anything about any of that.

I’ll never forgive
those who sent him there,

I can’t.

I know his small, rectangular
white marble marker
because it bears his name.

Gil Hoy is a Best of the Net nominated Tucson, Arizona poet and writer who studied fiction and poetry at The Writers Studio in Tucson, Arizona and at Boston University. Hoy previously received a B.A. in Philosophy from Boston University, an M.A. in Government from Georgetown, and a J.D. from the University of Virginia School of Law. He finished in second place in the New England University Wrestling Championship while at BU at 177 lbs. Hoy is a semi-retired trial lawyer. His poetry and fiction have previously appeared in Right Hand Pointing, Third Wednesday, Tipton Poetry Journal, Unlikely Stories Mark V, Chiron Review, One Sentence Poems, Rusty Truck, Mobius: The Journal of Social Change, The Penmen Review, Last Stanza Poetry Journal, Bewildering Stories, Literally Stories, The New Verse News and elsewhere.