It was a shower and gone quickly. The sky was only gray a short time. It reminded me of a gray fox that I spotted in the city when I went to buy two pizza slices, the unseen people that pass by us, ghosts that we think that we see out of the corner of our eye, lightning that we are not sure if we saw or not, or a rat late at night on a lonely street bolting to the drain opening. It may be me one day if I decide not to go … Continue reading Afternoon Shower by Benjamin Nash→
It is always the same with judging contests: Lots of fine poems, only a few winner slots. That funnel can be challenging and a bit capricious, poems of equal merit tossed between editors for some final, defining strength. Let me take a moment to thank each and every contest submitter for entrusting co-editor Frederick Wilbur and myself with your work. We do not use screeners thus every submitted poem was read by both of us with respect and appreciation. Here are the chosen winners for the poetry contest with editor comments listed below: First Place: … Continue reading Poetry Contest Announcements, 2021 by Sharon Ackerman→
I heard him say it dozens of times, but the first time I said it I laughed out loud. Dad never had two extra nickels to rub together— my parents the king and queen of getting by— and, get by they did— money not nearly as important as a house full of family. He was a soft touch— never able to say no to a friend. I often wonder how he’d fare today when money is god and we worship those who have gobs and gobs of it, like we worshipped the gods of mayhem … Continue reading Millionaire by Steven Deutsch→
Marjory Ruderman is the 1st place winner in Streetlight’s 2021 Flash Fiction Contest Phoebe was busier than ever, juggling depression and a midlife crisis. She dreamt of favorable circumstances becoming chaotic. A swimming pool displaced the boxes in her attic, its tiled bottom Escher-stepped and undulating. The water teemed with strangers. “Not serious buyers.” The Realtor at Phoebe’s elbow aimed her pen at the hordes of people there for the free swim in a structurally bewildering pool. Phoebe had never had a chance to enjoy the calm of a solitary swim, and now she … Continue reading Free Swim by Marjory Ruderman→
It is well into night, and she moves slowly. Her sword pierces the water that slides away like sheets of ice. Bubbles spin into small vortices that carry her forward. She pushes the water, and the water pushes back. The long barrel of her body arcs from side to side as she swims, propelled by her tail fin, scalloped and black, sharp as a sickle. Water, eye, and brain, are all one. Her looking links intention to muscle. Specks of life—the tiny jellies, the embryonic fish and crabs and eyeless shrimp—crowd together into the layer … Continue reading The Swordfish by Leslie Middleton→
Steps and measurements, bullet points of to-dos with creation in mind. Beautiful guidelines meant only to guide. It is here that I begin, here that I write something of worth, something to heal, where I grow again on this journey of life. I look back at the penciled recipes before me, remembering these can be erased, rewritten, and that there is room to improve. Two cups of this. A dash of that and mix it all together . . . but do I really wanna mix it? What if I don’t have that ingredient? This … Continue reading Recipes by Matthew Berg→
Splish! Splash! There’s high drama in the clashes of two wine glasses, martini olives swirling, peppermints spinning in the Schnapps! Watermelon, cherries and tomatoes are sprayed fresh and ready to eat! Artist Robin Harris loves to paint, focusing on fluidity and “gastronomic whimsy”—oversized, vibrant paintings playing with images of food and drink, dropping, spilling and splashing in all directions. Her high ceilinged studio delights the senses with paintings of fresh fruit and ice cream cones, newly poured Manhattans and a lemon twist balancing on the lip of a margarita. … Continue reading Robin Harris Makes a Splash!→
Speeding between the endless fields of corn and beans 70 . . . 75 . . . “This old junker might make it to 80” . . . Some girl who knows the meaning of, uh, ‘Hey hit the highway!’ I sang it, shouting it, shoulders and head rocking. I was cradled between those cornfields so well I could love the song and the singing and feel secure, even when speeding, so that the world would blur into color and sound as I jetted on my desires. Yet behind the words were the truths all … Continue reading Singing along with Mellencamp’s ‘I Need a Lover that Wont Drive Me Crazy’ by N. S. Boone→
Mexican-American. Latino/a. Are the hyphens and slashes connecting these forces more like borders or bridges, separating or unifying to the touch? Why can’t I superimpose Mexican and American so that they Rest upon each other like stacked hands, and then maybe we would see transparently, the redundancy of those two worlds. I cannot occupy entirely one or the other, so I live within that hyphen, on that see-sawing slash. I become the bridge, a body split, but connected as one. For years it was a contemplative space of confusion. With age I have created a … Continue reading Mexican-American by Amanda Rosas→
Casting the Current I waited hours on the bank while Dad kept trying for a couple browns. He was far downstream when the first big drops cratered the water. All afternoon, the dark bruise of a storm had been closing in over the hills, but he waded out farther with the rushing current, casting long, slow loops over the ripples, some lifted by breezes, others blown aside like a bird in a gust of wind. Cigarette dangling, he moved carefully, shifting his footing around slippery rocks, past slopes that fell away in darkness below, someone … Continue reading Casting the Current and What’s Forgotten, 2 poems by Ronald Stottlemyer→
Streetlight Magazine is the non-profit home for unpublished fiction, poetry, essays, and art that inspires. Submit your work today!
