One Night to Spare

She only had one night to spare
Before her weddin' day.
Some ol' no-tell motel was where
She only had one night to spare.
An' I...I whispered somethin' there
That wasn't mine to say.
She only had one night to spare
Before her weddin' day.

by Johnny Longfellow

Johnny Longfellow lives in Massachusetts. His poetry has appeared in print at Poetry Soup, and online at Thieves Jargon, Thunder Sandwich, and Underground Voices.

A Glimpse

Along my street she pedals past,
No plastic helmet on her head,
Long hair untied and red.
Her incandescence travels fast.

Instead of spandex, pair of jeans.
Instead of crouched, upright.
She's meant for dappled light,
The rutted path, pastoral scenes.

Most bicyclists these days appall;
With neon shirts and padded ass,
They look both vain and crass.
She didn't. That was all.

by Peter Swanson

Peter Swanson lives in Somerville, Massachusetts, where he writes poetry and detective stories. He has recently appeared or will appear in Asimov's Science Fiction, Measure, Orchard Press Mysteries, Unsplendid, and The Vocabula Review.

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