Cracked Love

Earth brings people together

As it decides to break from itself.

Such a beautiful, twisted love.



Mary Gabis

Little Girl Come Full Circle

She stands in front of

the mirror

admiring her reflection:

two neat braids,

a new dress,

shiny shoes,

ready to start her

first day of school.



A strange place.

What adventures await her?

Who will be her friends?

Will they like her?

Will she like them?

What if she forgets their names?

What if she can’t remember how to write her own name?

What if she gets lost walking home?

Will someone find her and tell her

she was missed,

is loved?


She peers into

the mirror

straining to see her reflection:

her white hair combed,

her favorite sweater,

orthopedic shoes.

Ready to start her

first day of geriatric care.



A strange place.

What happened to the old days?

Where are her friends?

Do they remember her?

What if she forgets her loved ones’ faces?

What if she can’t remember they love her?

What if she gets lost?

Will someone find her and tell her

what she knows in her heart:

she is missed,

she is loved.


Eve T. Remillard


Continental Drift


The sun rises on grated brick

As I skip

To the click

And beat of my feet

Placed within my shoes made by an Indian woman

Who is just like you.

I carry a stone of green, malachite.

It’s used so that my heart’s passion may be seen

By anyone or anything who tries to intervene

I am fuerte, strong.

I am in Chile, but not for long.


I wait for the metro and clutch the bracelet

That I purchased in a Russian park made of garnet.

My jeans from Holland hug my thighs tight

As if to keep my warmth safe from another’s intentions, dare if they might.

I am fuerte, strong.

I am in Chile, but not for long.


I travel in the physical, my exterior shows,

In my clothes and accessories, all the places I’ve known.

But my heart is what carries

All that I’ve seen

From mountains to cities,

My memory’s pristine.

I am fuerte, strong.

I am on Earth, but not for long.


Mary Gabis

Blue Neon Crucifixion

The bright lights,

the cheers, the jeers

of the crowd

pierced my dreams and

my heart pounded through

the fog of sleep.


There was Jesus

on the center cross

and Nixon on his right.

My father’s cross sat

waiting, illuminated

by blue neon.


He led the way

to his end,

smiling, jovial, joking,

while I watched, transfixed,

tears streaming down my face.

What was his sacrifice?


My father turned to kiss me, hug me,

my heart hammering against his thighs.

I didn’t want him to surrender.

My greatest childhood fear:

the death of my father.

His abandonment

lit up the night sky

in the blue neon

of my childhood nightmare.


Eve T. Remillard


Scratch, rumble, screech, SPARKS!

Many feet move off and on

In day and the dark.


Where are they going?

Where have they been all day long?

No words are exchanged.


I am silent too,

Contemplating my commute.

Scratch, rumble, screech, SPARKS!


Mary Gabis