Current Issue About Editorial Note Archives Submitting Links		Matt Dennison Southern Pastoral “I didn't know you could kill a Nandina bush,” she flowered with delicate wonder, leaning forward as if, in another world, another time, to touch. “Ever been drunk with murder in your heart and a hatchet in your hand, Dear Lady? Dear Lady, I killed her for you.” CLICK “That weird-as-hell cool-squish tingle you get inside the balls of your feet just beneath your toes when you squeeze 'em together real tight under the blankets on a cold winter night? Yeah, I'll miss that when I'm dead and gone. 'Bout it, though. Okay. Love you too. Bye-bye.” Next Poem
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