 Perfidious Albion (Spitfire), by Sophie Von Hellermann (UK, b. Germany) 2021. With thanks to Pilar Corrias Gallery. Courtesy of the artist. On Hotham Park, August, 1942 The Channel ruffled its cheesecloth beyond Hotham Park, under a sky-trail of hieroglyphic contrails, Spitfires, black-crossed Messerschmitts and Wolfes. With sharp faces we cheered the home-side kills, the falling fighter's pirouettes, the tail-spun crumps and fiery columns cloaked as failing comets. None imagined the panicked gauntlet grappling with a stick when the cock-pit jammed, how far they were from home, what dying here revoked. But what was it in our upturned childish faces, what threat did he suppose, this airmen turning back towards the land when home was calling? We watched him turn, a glint shown on his cock-pit glass with fire sent flickering from each wing, not reckless Phaeton in a burning chariot, some other thing, a hot-shot teenage air-ace working children from the bone. Adam Cairns Adam Cairns is a poet and photographer who lives in South Wales. He can often be found shivering and wet trying to photograph birds. When he warms up, he sometimes writes poetry. @AdamAcorns
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 Hell, by Lorette C. Luzajic (Canada) 2018. Click on image for artist site. Churchillian Haiku Hell: when your cane slips & blood drips on head shoulders knees & toes sink but keep going... Ekaterina Dukas Ekaterina Dukas has studied and thought linguistics and culture at Universities of Sofia, Delhi and London and authored a British Library publication on Mediaeval art. She writes poetry as a pilgrimage to the meaning and cherishes its surprises, dramas and out of the box gifts. Her poems appeared in various journals, including The Ekphrastic Review. Her collection Ekphrasticon is published by Europa Edizioni, 2021.  The Deer, Alexa Karabin (USA) 2020. Click image for artist site. The Deer (after Alexa Karabin) and here is where you closed your eyes curled thin legs deflated after I drove off in a panicked blur remorse keeping me awake till now when I return to speak regret crouched in woody scurf and duff I turn myself in throw myself on the mercy of your still heart as a jewel sun decides to rise in earnest turning you golden and the air fills with skippers mulberry wings swallowtails and blues who know nothing of sin or why I lay ferns and leaves over cut and wound sitting shiva as beetles begin their service garlic mustard and hellebore nod your tongue still fragrant with corn and apple fur dew-shining my whispered mea culpas stir the hair at your ear scant reparation for all that’s been taken Lynn Pattison Lynn Pattison is author of Matryoshka Houses (Kelsay Press, 2020) in addition to three other poetry collections: tesla's daughter (March St. Press); Walking Back the Cat (Bright Hill Press) and Light That Sounds Like Breaking (Mayapple Press). She has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize numerous times and for inclusion in Best Microfiction. Pattison’s work has appeared in Ruminate, Moon City Review, New Flash Fiction Review, The Notre Dame Review, Rhino, Smartish Pace and numerous other publications.  Two Witches, by Hans Baldung (Germany) 1523 Witch/Hysteric after Anne Carson’s “The Gender of Sound” Always evenings, naked, unafraid, glass pitcher on my shoulder, goat’s head severed under foot, a fist—amputated—resting, aback my neck. The crowd behind me like a crowd behind me always behind me, jeering, whispering, fielding all I say, even the sound of my voice. Escape me I escape you: words tattooed across my body: left breast; right, my belly—a mouth: open, painted in blood: menstrual or goat--does it matter? If I crouch, let whatever wants to run from me run; if I contort, head, arms, shoulders between my legs, throw myself—acrobatic—from the highest board or cliff, will the apology be enough? My incantation is clean. Enough the usurper, the thief. We banked the tampons, the extra-strong deodorant. We drank the perfume. We covered our hair with cotton cloth. There was no more space. Just the dark bush before me growing darker, disappearing. A symphony of cicadas to mark the way. Join me. No eye teeth, no rusted knob. No more champagne. Pear-assed and perfect, I am your wet dream, my voice stolen; my violence intact. Rachel Neve-Midbar Poet and essayist, Rachel Neve-Midbar’s collection Salaam of Birds won the 2018 Patricia Bibby First Book Award and was published by Tebot Bach in 2020. She is also the author of the chapbook, What the Light Reveals (Tebot Bach, 2014, winner of The Clockwork Prize). Rachel’s work has appeared in Blackbird, Prairie Schooner, Grist and Georgia Reviewas well as other publications and anthologies. Her awards include the Crab Orchard Review Richard Peterson Prize, the Passenger Poetry Prize and nominations for The Pushcart Prize. Rachel is a current PhD candidate at The University of Southern California where her research concerns menstruation in contemporary poetry. She is also editor of Stained: an anthology of writing about menstruation for the AuntFlo2020 Project. More at rachelnevemidbar.com  Lucky 7: an Ekphrastic Marathon Try something intense and unusual- an ekphrastic marathon, celebrating seven years of The Ekphrastic Review Join us on July 17, 2022 for our craziest challenge yet! It’s an ekphrastic marathon! With amazing guest judges, Meg Pokrass for flash, and Brent Terry for poetry. Write to fourteen different prompts, poetry or flash fiction, in thirty minute drafts. We will gather in a specially created Facebook page for prompts, to chat with each other, and support each other. Time zone or date conflicts? No problem. Page will stay open for one week. Participate when you can. The honour system is in effect- thirty minute drafts per prompt, fourteen prompts. Participants can do the seven hour marathon or two sessions of 3.5 hours. Polish and edit your best pieces later, then submit five to our Lucky 7 e-chapbook. One poem and one flash will win $100 each. Thank you to our flash judge Meg Pokrass for the marathon technique. Marathon: July 17, 2022 10 am to 6 pm EST (including breaks) (For those who can’t make it during those times, any hours that work for you are fine. For those who can’t join us on July 17, catch up within one week.) Story and poetry deadline: July 31, 2022 Up to five works of poetry or flash fiction or a mix, works started during marathon and polished later. 500 words max- include a brief bio, 75 words or less Chapbook e-anthology selections and winning entries announced sometime in September. We are delighted to have guest judges Meg Pokrass and Brent Terry. Meg Pokrass is the queen of microfiction, with nearly (or over?) a thousand journal credits. Her flash is widely anthologized in both small press publications and Norton’s. She is the founder of the Best Microfiction Anthology series and the New Flash Fiction Review. She has been a guest judge for many flash contests, at Mslexia and Fractured Lit. Meg is also well known for her microfiction workshops and creativity prompts. She is the author of The House of Grana Padano (with Jeff Friedman), The Loss Detectors, Spinning to Mars, and many more. Brent Terry is an award-winning writer and a runner who teaches at Easter |