solidfoodpress

by Emma McCoy | Poetry | Work starts early before the heat comes, the sky bruise-blue as he stretches his legs. When he puts on his hardhat, yesterday’s sweat greets him, salty, cool, familiar.

by Rachel Ann Russell  | Poetry | After, it was such a grand celebration: dancing, singing, campfires, and Moses and Miriam standing tall while outside the celebration, in the darkness, nothing.

by Rachel Ann Russell  | Poetry | Couldn’t move my arms or legs. Couldn’t wipe the sweat stinging my eyes. We were at the door of the furnace, and I was praying “Oh Lord my God, King of the Universe, the Lord is One”