Mycelium by Wilda Morris

At Grandmother's Table circa 1948 by Elizabeth Langemak

Taste by Patridge Boswell

Lullaby by Edward Mayes

Shakespeare by James B. Nicola

Summer Night by Diane Giardi

100 Words on My Father with a Big Fish by Jan Presley

Why go to heaven yet by Margo Davis

Roll Over Beethoven by Jonathan Pacic

limnophila aromatica by Susan Soriano

Bantams by Heather Bourbeau

Salt by Carolyn Wells

It Won't Taste the Same by Michelle Morouse

The Fallacy of Comparisons by Paul Lieber

Ode to End of Summer by Wally Swist

408 Dates with Maureen by Gail Bellamy

Taste Testing by Sarah Fawn Montgomery

A Meditation on Working as a Produce Clerk by Ross Stager

Le Fouquet by Elisa Albo

Two Poems by Sarah Paley

Transubstantiation by Susan O'Dell Underwood

Two Poems by Sharon Abra Hanen

Strawberries by Vincent Peloso

Chin Chin by Jessica M. Brophy

Nonpareil by Lois Rosen

Creating Foodie Monsters by Elisa Albo

Foods I Love by Meredith Drake

Three Poems by Terence Winch

Soufflé by Piscilla Atkins

Three Poems by Gail Peck

Under the Kitchen Floor by Bruce Cohen

Spring Peas Come to the Stores by Hannah Fischer

Two Poems by Grace Bauer

Kettle by Susan Kelly-DeWitt

Going to Get Swedish by Carol Berg

Potluck on Sulphur Creek by Brenda Butka

My Mother's Handwriting by Julia Wendell

Radish by Lauren Henley

The Way of the Buddha by Nadia Ibrashi

Famine Bread by Karen Holmberg

Leer Comida by Andrés Catalán

Cooking Show by Gary Mesick

Museum of Butter by Carol Jenkins

Two Poems by Crystal Simone Smith

Yardbird Suite by John Dufresne

"Dos Perros" and "Diets and Defeat"

by Crystal Simone Smith

August 2012

Dos Perros

In the downtown rebuild I sip a café latte in a silver chair that’s chained to a building, my eyes measuring the length for slack. The sun’s burn just on the edge of my wedge of shade, I’ll need to move soon. Across the street, another new restaurant has popped up, Dos Perros. On the window’s logo, two dogs sit side by side a red fire hydrant. I sit alluded. Why call a restaurant, Two Dogs? Can’t say I ever think of dogs when eating nachos. I never think of dogs, except when I pass them latched on the leashes that keep them from me so I stay safe and superior. The sun is indeed intensifying.


Diets and Defeat

After nine, she eats a bag of Lays, basically lying down. Her head pillow-propped enough to chew. She doesn’t care about no-carb carrots anymore. Did she before? No⎯ just about how thin they could keep you for a man. A man she screamed at so loud last night her ears rung. Screamed something like ‘dead’. Meaning ‘this marriage feels dead’. He said nothing, which she took as permission to die then already. Tonight he frolics in the office. She watches the Grammys⎯ Justin Beiber’s acoustic set of Baby, Baby, Baby, which makes her feel faintly romantic and deeply aged.


  Crystal Simone Smith is a graphic designer, artist, and poet. Her poems have appeared in The African American Review, Southern Women’s Review, Louisiana Literature, Obsidian III: Literature in the African Diaspora and are forthcoming in Spillway and Nimrod. She was nominated for a 2012 pushcart prize. She holds an MFA from Queens University of Charlotte and is a member of the Carolina African American Writers Collective.


Photo of "Latte " under Creative Commons.