The Almost Real Thing by Leland Neville
“Our reconditioned 3D printer just made that gun,” said my boss. “The genuine ones were used by real cowboys during famous gunfights.” #MetaworkerMonday #TheMetaworker
Tag: death
“For Thea” by Linda Lacy
Nate turns me toward him, my round belly the bumper between us, his brown eyes plead with me. “Everyone has evacuated. We have to go now. Please.”
#TheMetaworker #MetaworkerMonday
“Lives of Dust and Ashes” by Marie-Louise McGuinness
“The bang came afterwards, as if the earth had just regained consciousness and gravity returned with violent force.”
#MetaworkerMonday #TheMetaworker
The Metaworker Podcast – The Borderland Furies by Oisín Breen
Episode Description: Matthew, Elena, and Mel talk with Oisín Breen about his poem “The Borderland Furies” and about his new book of poetry, Lillies on …
“Ennui” by Alexander Lazarus Wolff
The sun peers down from above, spilling light on the ground; the clouds hang haloedby a fading gold. Daylight’s verve recedes as the purpling sky …
The Metaworker Podcast – In the Willow Garden by Isabel O’Hara Walsh
Episode Description: Matthew, Elena, Mel, and Cerid talk with Isabel O’Hara Walsh about her short fiction piece “In the Willow Garden”. Content Warning: We discuss …
“Unsettled Cemetery Dust” by Em Dietrich
In a house, in a heart, a demon lurked. The girl found it in her dead brother’s skull buried in the backyard. She looked into …
“Last Meal” by Jason Brightwell
Tomorrow is too late. I’ve been listeningto the ground lick its lips, laying plans to closeon your heart. To beat the earth, brown batter, to bake …
“Hares to Hounds” by Marco Etheridge
The boy feigns sleep, but he is ready to spring. Two children stalk his bed, dark-light-girl-boy, clad in spring-green and ochre, barefoot both. The boy …
“The Last Nights of Sisterhood” by E.B. Cotenord
On my sister’s 21st birthday, I visited her at the Cook County Jail. Looking back, I wish I hadn’t been so annoyed to see her …
“Beautiful Grief” by Jason Brightwell
You wore your grey fate perfectly—laughter, golden touch. It was a show, of course. Even as tiny hope waved over private blue melancolia, it stirred up a sludge,lingering …
“Ctrl+Z” by Deborah-Zenha Adams
(+_+)? A decade lost your last message sprang back to life today :O unwittingly resuscitated by a software upgrade. : – ) Happy Thursday! Such a great….xD …laughed so …
“Blueblack Pier” by Robin Wyatt Dunn
Sometimes I come out here to think—I’m tempted to say “about death,” but that isn’t socially acceptable, and not quite true. Not even death’s cousin, …
“Out of Body” by Liza Olson
I am lying flat on the ground in a quiet living room in a quiet home in the kind of quiet suburb everyone’s at least …
“For Scale” by Daune O’Brien
My mother sayslife is goodshe is happydown sixmaybe seven —- no, eight poundssince catching upto her too-thin sisterwho is losing weight to chemofastand I want …
“That Damn Selfie” by Laurel Osterkamp
If only Joyce hadn’t taken that damn selfie. Her and Tate, laughing at a truck stop in Mexico, drinking beer with lime, his cotton t-shirt …
“Another Life” by Helen Nancy Meneilly
Helen Nancy Meneilly is an Irish poet whose work explores issues of identity, language, and womanhood. She is currently studying for her MA in Creative …
“Alligators to Ashes” by Margaret S Mandell
Prologue to a Memoir Based on Love Letters to my Dead Husband By Margaret S. Mandell Sunday, December 10, 2017 My Dearest Love: October 2015. …
“Fever Dream” by Rebecca M Ross
Rona piles rice from path to porch like snowdrifts sprinkled with crayon colored carrots, peas, corn– until the guardrail disappears under an ever-growing mountain of …
“The Burial Begins Slow” by Robin Wyatt Dunn
The burial begins slow, carrying up the earth over the barrow for the devils, each in turn highing their breath and turning over the gravel, …
“Text Me When You Get Home” by Helen Nancy Meneilly
night falls like a brick. urgent tongue of wind stuck to the back of my neck, hair wrapped around my throat. fist of keys in …
“Retribution” by Ash Evan Lippert
Ash Evan Lippert is a clay artist and emerging queer poet residing in the South Carolina upstate. Their poetry and fiction center on the exploration …
“Close to the Fire” by Bill Kitcher
Jerry backed the ’68 Ford Fairlane into a driveway, then jammed it into Drive, and stomped on the accelerator. The tires squealed and he crossed …
“Pandemic Yoga” by Judith Beth Cohen
At the Senior Center, we challenge stereotypes about old ladies. We practice yogaoutdoors for “social distance.” If it starts to drizzle, we ignore it. If …
“Scrutiny” by Tim Frank
I played with the curls of your clipped auburn hair that I kept sealed in your grandma’s silver locket, because you always said I didn’t …
“So Many Ways to Live” by Victoria Woolf Bailey
When that moment arrives(by car, by bus, by daybreak) We live in it like a house(condo, apartment, tent down by the river) Imagining we may …
“In the Willow Garden” by Isabel O’Hara Walsh
Down in the willow garden, where me and my true love did meet,There we sat a-courting, my love fell off to sleep – “Rose Connelly,” …
“Drowned Man Lives Again” by John Grey
There was a lot of crazy thrashing at first and I was cursing myself for not keeping at it with those swimming lessons, and I …
“In Between” by Kelly Claytor
Are you dead, Maria? One Hour It seems so. Seven Days Their black clothes. Their black veils. Their white handkerchiefs, dry in their pockets. None …
“Before” by Margaret Krusinga
Margaret Krusinga lives on sixty acres she and her husband manage loosely for wildlife. Diagnosed with MS in 1976, she graduated college under a cloud, …
“Abruptly-” by Shalini Singh
Hotaru ika are a glow-in-the-dark species, hiding in the translitic a mesmerizing light courtesy of a network of thousands of photophores, drifting long hairs of …
“Rows” by Stephen Kingsnorth
A strange condition for a rowamongst the headstone rows that flankthe hill side cemetery,that hangs and flows,marble chips and chips off marble, chip paper,scree of …
“Red Sun Red Moon” by Dan Yokum
Pauli stood at the railing on the back deck and flicked glances at the giant red sun fall slowly to the ground. The surrounding sky …
“Lookalike” by Cameron Morse
It’s funny how franticallya few leaves appear tobe waving at me when I liftmy eyes to the maplethat tried to kill me yesterdaydropping a hefty …
“Tenderness” by Mary Paulson
Through the eye of a dream,the round pit of a binocular opening,I recognize myselfstanding in front of a stranger,his gun barrel pressedagainst the bone between …
“String Man” by Hadley James Hoyles
A heaviness paws at the groundsupporting the birch-wood tablewithout sound, left in the lurchwith this godforsaken mourning shroud. He lives so little, his face can …
“Avril” by Hadley-James Hoyles
The dull beep raises my guardas the seconds canter in the frostlit up by an anaemic starin the echoes of the morning. A glib voice …
The Metaworker Podcast – The Poetry of Kate Shannon
Episode Description: Editors Matthew, Elena, Marina, and Darin talk to Kate Shannon about her wonderful poetry! We touch on the history of the form, some …
“The Surgeon” by Cameron Morse
If I check my Facebookfor likes I must want to be liked but why no one who sends me wishes knows my birthday …
“Perfusion” by Cameron Morse
Perfuse mebrain scanner Push your fluidsthrough my blood vessels my tissues Let whatever in me that is at issue be scanned interior scar star-birth tumor …
“Dead Man’s Party” by Laura Becker
Laura Becker is a visual art student at the University of Wisconsin Milwaukee. Her work explores emotional and psychological contemplations through collaging and fusions of …
“The Mosquito and the Bell Jar” by Carol Motta
Our balsa-sweet Mosquito flies low and slow into the burning sun, undetectable by radarI hear only air scratching past the belly of the holdNo bomb …
“Diadem for the End of the World” by Randi Sanders
Seven billion was the end predicted by that movie where the population was fed on a questionable combination of soy, lentils, and plankton that wasn’t …
“A Report on the Afterlife” by Michael Mintrom
The bus climbed slowly up the gravel road,the inside all dust and sweat, smellingof leather seats, of engine oil.The travellers rubbed together, chatting,recent arrivals to …
“The Donkey Saint” by Carl Fuerst
When Emil was in Youth Brigade, his labor unit was relocated to a region called “Janesville Wisconsin.” The territory had already been processed by a …
“ghazal for aguas del sur” by Kate Shannon
once, mothers waited for their dead children in damp bodies untilno more noises crept from their wind-polyp’d throats, until a dozen moons passed, a skinned …
“Untitled” by Simon Perchik
Even without a caress its petals wait, try more red than usual then sweets, sent along with the scent from the latest hillside till one …
“Thin Places” by Steven Croft
Through a broad valley of baked brown dirt and sparse green trees,past mudbrick and stone villages of flat-topped houses, we climbthe Humvees up the mountain, …
“Gone” by BH James
Bob Sanders awoke one morning from a dream to discover that he no longer existed. He had died in the night. He had been fifty-eight …
“Glass” by Chariklia Martalas
Did they tell you Inferno was made from glass? Clear as truth turned upside down You can see through to the bottom of the world …
“Nigh” by Scott Mitchel May
Harvey Olsen never had any interest in surviving any kind of apocalypse — not zombie, not viral, and certainly not nuclear. He honestly did not …
“Flatline” by Mark Hammerschick
“through the view/of a hollow lens/like an eye surprised/by lost sight”
“As We Know It” by Marco Etheridge
You pause in the center of the footbridge, a silver-bright ribbon running beneath you, gravel paths serpentine under the locust trees that define the banks …
“Death and Mercy” by Kim Malinowski
She wasn’t a phoenix, but she knew ash. She painted herself with coals, with cinders. War paint disguising the woman of the woods. She felt …
“The Next One Who Dies Had Better Be Living” by John Grey
Kill the funeral please.Mow down the mourners.Assassinate the coffin. Hey. pallbearers,hands up. don’t move.And preacher man…none of your phony speeches…heaven’s what I say it is. …
“The Outcast Dead” by Ken Allan Dronsfield
“In the dead and dark of night,/
upon a haunted gorge they rise.” #metaworkermonday
And Then He Died by Matthew Maichen
Hello, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, nonbinary individuals of all ages. It’s been a while since we had an update from the editor-in-chief, but …
“Stripped” by James la Vigne
Having little to his name when he died, the reading of Henry Fromm’s will went quickly. Nothing surprising or contentious. On paper he never did …
“It was Slow” by Kaileen Campbell
I sat and held the world’s coldest hand.One whose skin had been taken by ice. The palm of a dried …
“What Do Birds Do When Bombs Go Off” by Shah Tazrian Ashrafi
When bombs rattle the insides of houses, cafes, churches, Twisting and turning their intestines, Hurling their insides out, Bleeding them dry, What do the birds …
“Bodily” by Gale Acuff
I don’t care if I’m dead as long as I’m still alive, in Heaven I mean though not Hell, I might be dead but I’ll …
“Forgotten Man” by Ann Christine Tabaka
Dust motes dance on sunlight streaming through a dingy window. Rusty mailbox, empty, always empty. Cadaverous cobwebs mocking back at him from a peeling wall. …
“Death of Whydah Sibyl” by Ken Allan Dronsfield
Stand at ocean-side, exhale screams cut through dense air, her throat tightens releasing weird screeching caterwauls. The ice melts and Sibyl climbs the tower; in gown of …
“Ash Lee” by Robin Wyatt Dunn
Come with me, it won’t be far; we have all night, and the seasons with it, in your heart: I’m dying. I’ll tell you about …
“Exit” by Anupama Kadwad
I force myself to open the closed lids To catch a glimpse of my surroundings Try my utmost to overcome the lethargy Shake myself free …
“He Stared Down the Barrel of a Gun and He Saw Me” by Stephanie Luka
I watched you slide swiftly into the fog encapsulating Eagle Junction railway station. Scraps of rust leaking with oil-stained dew flung into the past, and …
“The Plum Tree” by Ken Allan Dronsfield
How did the despair become fluid for clear, dry eyes to shed? Why did the burden on the heart allow the stress and cause …
“The Watcher” by Jenna Crosier
Every year, from the first I was assigned to the graveyard, I would watch the headstones from my place upon the highest pine tree. My …
“TRUTH #4: The Face Behind the Mirror” by Matthew Maichen
I only ever wrote to be close to you. You didn’t exist. I knew that. But it didn’t matter when I could create words that …
“Verb Tenses” by Meli Ewing
The letter I wrote Lilly first thing after I found out talks to her in the present tense, like she still exists, because she does …
“The Living Dead” by John Short
I opened my eyes, emerging from a dream but couldn’t remember anything at all. Shame really because I’d always considered dream space a bit like …
“Water” by Gabby Catalano
“He laid his head in my palms And I watched as he grew a garden of roses Across a dying field. He had the power …
“Shadows” by Hanoch Guy
I. I jump at the slightest touch on my cracked back. Fierce mountain wind rushes around me. My ears, too long and pointy. A cold …
“This is not a Political Poem” by Addison Namnoum
Addison Namnoum and The Metaworker Editorial Staff would like to dedicate this poem to the victims of the Orlando shooting, and to their friends, families, …