The Bluestone Review 2020

The Bluestone Review 2020

Poetry

False Target By Matthew J. Spireng Given the low light and the

hours of waiting expecting what was to be there to be there at any moment, anticipating that moment: movement through the brush, the exposure, target open for the shot, the pull at the trigger, the sound as the bullet explodes from the gun and the target, false though it is, goes down. Fire

By Taylyn Strange Red and Yellow, the colors of the weightless container on my fingertips the colors foreshadowing the tragedy to come flick, flick Kerosene, dripping from my nose to the depths of my soul purposefully poured on my frail flesh, my bare being flick, flick Matches, I knew of your dangers; I knew of your intentions But still I believed you only wanted to light my path flick, flick Flames, I was too blinded by the beauty that you produced that I couldn’t see the damage that you caused flick, flick Ashes, all that is left of me and you; our beautiful disaster we were never meant to be; we were meant to burn

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