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Poetry: ‘Know How’ by Susan Shafarzek0
- Poetry
- 10/02/2018
My grandfather made his coffee an old-fashioned way. First, he tossed the grounds – he knew how much – straight into boiling water where they seethed and roiled, orange at the scum. And when he judged they’d boiled enough – a frown of concentration on his face – he tipped the mixture through a slip
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Poetry: ‘Depression’ by Pamela Potter0
- Poetry
- 06/22/2018
Depression, people say, is crushing and sometimes I wonder, if mine were crushing, would it squeeze me to do something about it? Depression is the smothering blanket of a grey, humid day when the air is too thick to breathe and the heat pushes me down and holds on like the gravity has been turned up. Too limp to move. Depression is a soft grey tissue forgotten in a pocket.
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