The carcass on the shoulder buzzed with flies and other insects feeding on the rotting flesh. The process of decay started the moment the vehicle, probably an SUV or pickup truck by the amount of damage, rammed into it.

In a way, we’re always rotting, from the moment we’re born. It’s thanks to the magic of cellular technology we’re able to keep regenerating through the decades, sloughing off the dead skin and useless morality as we go.

When I flung open the door and saw my father’s body in a pool of blood, I collapsed, screamed and cried in a fit of rage and sadness. I knew I shouldn’t have left him. He said it would be safer at Aunt Ania’s, but nowhere is safe in Poland. I had no idea the Nazis could be so brutal. He was protecting his friends and now he is dead, and they are in the hands of the Nazis.

I have nothing to lose.

From Guest Contributor Lisa Scuderi-Burkimsher

The train came to a halt, and the platform filled with German police. They entered, and people quieted while my heart pounded.

A few more stops and I’ll be safe.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Dominicus Tyrannus watched the city crumble from his tower. For years, advisors and barely-trusted confidantes had warned such an outcome was inevitable. There were always warnings and doomsayers looking at him as if somehow he was the one who had failed them, not the other way around.

They were dead now, publicly executed by being tossed from this very tower, their deaths meant to placate the masses. Perhaps it had just whetted their appetites for more blood. Either way, with the empire falling after more than a thousand years of uninterrupted reign, Dominicus regretted not killing them all much earlier.

I was still in my twenties. A woman at the bar grabbed my arm and asked for my help. But I also would have rather done the tying than be the one tied up. Faraway in time, my doctor was phoning me with the results of the biopsy. I had what he called “an oddball cancer.” Of course, I did. What other kind would a poet have? The woman, her back now to me, was singing along with the jukebox about all the lonely people, a small, crumpled sound like foul dead flower water at the bottom of a vase.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie’s newest poetry collection, Heart-Shaped Hole, is available from Laughing Ronin Press. He co-edits the online journal UnLost, dedicated to found poetry.

Scarlett looks away. “I will pray for your soul, Phineas.”

“Thank you, Scarlett. I can only pray for your death similarly. It’s the least I can do.”

From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster

Standing here on this frigid night, I look out over a frozen landscape, and I can’t help but wonder why?. There is still hope. Maybe one day, this land will come back to life, the trees will grow, the water will flow, and the air will smell fresh and clean.

But the land is not dead. It’s only sleeping, waiting for inspiration or something green to grow the days away.

From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster

Having survived hospice twice is something. No one wants to talk about hospice. Reason? People go there to die. And? I assure you I am dead. Laughter. How are you writing this? I have no idea. In yet? I watched people starved to death. I have seen 130 pound man starved down to looking like a leftover turkey at a Homer Simpson Thanksgiving. I have seen people wave one hour prior to their death. I have watched as people in authority have forgotten to feed people. Sounds wicked. And maybe it is. God has to judge the people. Deathly endings.

From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle

Muma is crying like a child while we are watching the river runs red and dead. The hills above us are crumbling away into the deep, giant sinkholes. The ancient forests are cut down or burned. Muma’s hand is so cold, her body is trembling like a leaf. Muma’s lips are motionless but I can hear her silent curse…

Now I understand the meaning of those untold words and feel the real wonder and power of her inner voice. The end is near because we are human and humans must be punished for all crimes against our dear Mother Nature.

From Guest Contributor Ivan Ristic

It’s rare, but a fact that there are man-eating lions. My friend is dead because of one, attacked in his tent while sleeping. The screams and tearing of flesh are still vivid in my mind.

This time I miss.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher