Yard Signs for the Apocalypse

In This House We Believe In

ironic paraphernalia

jumbled typefaces

blogs that pant and drool

speaking with the manager

In This House We Believe In

crocheted beanies

scrapbooks of static

the latent philosophy of tater tots

Bundt cakes that know how to testify

In This House We Believe In

pinball melodies of washer/dryer combos

chihuahuas that wear lipstick

futures that refuse their present

therapists who prescribe cages in cages

In This House We Believe In

waters we’ve stepped in

the salt & pepper of the masses

the morbid quintain

and of course, sanctimonious final lines.


Rikki Santer

Rikki Santer’s poetry has received many honors including six Pushcart and three Ohioana book award nominations as well as a fellowship from the National Endowment for the Humanities. Her eleventh poetry collection, Stopover, which is in conversation with the original Twilight Zone series was recently published by Luchador Press. Please contact her through her website: rikkisanter.com

Marina Klutse

Sun Clouds


Marina Klutse

Marina Klutse is a New York-born artist with Ghanaian and Haitian roots. Her work questions the ideas of freedom, constraints, expectations, and taking up space through the lens of race, nationality, and identity. As a Black person, who are you allowed to be, and what opportunities are you afforded. Do you get space to exist with the freeness to be introspective, explore the world, have rest, joy, or simply exist. When and where do those luxuries exist, especially for Black individuals? Sometimes you just have to take it. Her art is about taking up space physically, mentally, and emotionally. She focuses on individuals from marginalized groups who demand the freeness to be introspective, travel the world, and insist on taking moments for peace, rest, joy, or play despite the limitations and expectations.

A Letter from Kitty

Dear Mrs.,

This is a note to say I’m really sorry I peed on your green suede boots, your favorites.  I hope you’re not still mad. I know you had to throw them in the trash because the smell doesn’t go away, and I’m in real big trouble.

I’ve decided to come clean, tell you the truth why I did it. I just hate when you take me to the vet. First you put me in that tight cardboard carrier and it makes me very nervous. I get carsick on the way to the vet and that’s not fun at all.  And Dr. Braun always wants to check me, and he has bad breath. And the food…it is really yucky there. They don’t have my favorite albacore tuna, and I feel very confined and my claustrophobia acts up something fierce. You know I get anxious when I hear the dogs barking in the other part of the building.

I need my space to roam in the yard and cruise in the house. After all, I have my favorite places where I take my beauty naps. I love when the sun shines through the patio door and warms me up on the red velvet sofa. I have my scratching chair and I have to watch the neighbors from the living room window. Somebody’s got to do it. I love being able to jump on your bed and cuddle in the morning until you get up and get me my breakfast.

You’re right. These are all excuses and I should not have peed, but the truth is I get really sad when you and Mister go away. As soon as I see your suitcases coming out of the closet, I start to hyperventilate. I know Dr. Braun suggested Valium for me but I agree it might be better if he prescribed it for you.

I resolved to take an anger management class and I promise, promise, promise, I’ll be a much better kitty. Please give me another chance, but promise you won’t go away and leave me at the vet any more. And just for future reference, I prefer Chicken of the Sea Albacore.




Joanne Jagoda

Joanne Jagoda is a longtime resident of the Oakland hills. After retiring in 2009, one inspiring workshop, Lakeshore Writers, launched Joanne on an unexpected writing trajectory. Her short stories, poetry and creative nonfiction have appeared on-line and in numerous print anthologies including, Quillkeepers Press, The Awakenings Review, The Deronda Review, Dreamers Magazine, Passager, Better After 50, Heat the Grease We’re Frying up Some Poetry, Is it Hot In Here Or Is it Just Me?, Project Healthy Love (Riza Press) and Still You, Poems of Illness and Healing. Joanne received a Pushcart Prize nomination and has won a number of contests including the Benicia Love Poetry contest. Several of her poems have been published in the San Francisco Chronicle and the Benicia Herald. She continues taking Bay Area writing workshops enjoys Zumba on-line and spoiling her seven grandchildren who call her Savta. Joanne’s first book of poetry My Runaway Hourglass, conceived while she was home sheltering-in-place, was published in summer of 2020 (Poetica Publications). Joannejagoda.com

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