Issue 24: | 30 Aug. 2024 |
Poem: | 62 words |
As a kid, I used a Ouija board to scratch the surface of the beyond. I craved conversation. Mother used it as a desk blotter. She paid bills over that field, ignoring the generous spirits who tried to speak. Now I keep that old board quiet in the closet. And I can’t talk about Mother anymore. I worry she might hear.
is a Bucks County Poet Laureate Emerita (Pennsylvania), 2016 Winner of Main Street Voices, and second-place winner in the 2023 Crossroads Contest. Latest publications include Gargoyle, One Art, River Heron Review, Sheila-Na-Gig, and Verse-Virtual. Her collection, Broken Umbrellas, was published by Kelsay Books in 2019. Her work has been nominated multiple times for a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. Jane is Poetry Editor of Schuylkill Valley Journal.
Author’s website: https://www.janeednamohler.com/
Copyright © 2019-2024 by MacQueen’s Quinterly and by those whose works appear here. | |
Logo and website designed and built by Clare MacQueen; copyrighted © 2019-2024. | |
Data collection, storage, assimilation, or interpretation of this publication, in whole or in part, for the purpose of AI training are expressly forbidden, no exceptions. |
At MacQ, we take your privacy seriously. We do not collect, sell, rent, or exchange your name and email address, or any other information about you, to third parties for marketing purposes. When you contact us, we will use your name and email address only in order to respond to your questions, comments, etc.