Welcome to
The Rush Magazine

What people say when you’re not around, parading their overturned trees like candles in hand, sparkle explosions

I painted still lifes-- peonies and roses, until a romance blossomed, and I stepped into that ring of marriage when I stopped

To stand barefoot upon the stoop takes nerve, When winter paints the land in frigid white.

I hear my children laughing in the garden, gazing at the moon, though years have faded away and only I remain here gazing at the moon.

It was a love come undone, no more heart cards in red. She would need to explain, fold story in a neat box.