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  April 2019
volume 16 number 1
-table of contents-
  contributing poets
  Michelle Angelini
  luis cuauhtemoc berriozabal
  Jack G. Bowman
  Lynne Bronstein
  Deborah Edler Brown
  Anna Cates
  Beverly M. Collins
  Chella Courington
  David Flynn
  Paul Hellweg
  Glenn Ingersoll
  Scott C. Kaestner
  lalo kikiriki
  John Leonard
  Cynthia Linville
  Marieta Maglas
  Xavier McIves
  Scott Thomas Outlar
  bc petrakos
  Diana Rosen
  Walter Ruhlmann
  David Scriven
  Megha Sood
  Terrence Sykes
  Perry Terrell
  Tim Tipton
  Davide Trame
  Roman Tunkel
  mailing list
Megha Sood
April 2019



art by sonjaye maurya

    Megha Sood lives in Jersey City, New Jersey. She is a contributing author at GoDogGO Cafe, Candles Online, Free Verse Revolution, Whisper and the Roar, Poets Corner, and contributing editor at Ariel Chart.
    Her works have been featured in 521 Magazine, #Sideshow, Oddball, Pangolin Review, Fourth and Sycamore, KOAN (Paragon press), Modern Literature, Visual Verse, Vita Brevis, Modern Poetry, Spill Words Press, Indian periodicals, Literary Heist, Little Rose Magazine, The Quiet Corner, Writer's Cafe Magazine, and coming up in Dime Show Review, Piker Press, The Stray Branch, and many more. Her poetry has recently been published in the anthology We Will Not be Silenced by Indie Blu(e) Publishing and upcoming in two more.
    She recently won the 1st prize in NAMI NJ Dara Axelrod Mental Health Poetry contest. She blogs at
Megha Sood




How distant and far life feels,
as I count my breath,
on the broken steps of the temple?

Counting my breath
gets heavier with every step.
I open myself to the pain
like the fallen oak opens
itself to the wild.

The blades of grass
covered with thin layers of ice
that fungal death,
pain always deceives
as it morphs and molds every time.

It hides in plain sight
like the serrated ends of my dying lilies
bobbing in the pink vase
resting and rotting for weeks.

Appearance is everything
deception is a rule of nature.
Pain is humbling like
the stooped back of my granny.

Like a name called in the dark
in the middle of the night,
you learn to ignore it.

Death, a loyal stalker,
waiting to call out my name.
Just once.

copyright 2019 Megha Sood