M. Stone

M. Stone is a bookworm, birdwatcher, and stargazer who writes poetry while living in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in San Pedro River Review, SOFTBLOW, Calamus Journal, and numerous other print and online journals. She can be reached at writermstone.wordpress.com.

No Revival 

Humanity cut its milk teeth

on rotting dinosaur bones.

Millions of miles of pipelines,

veins and arteries crisscrossed

beneath earthen flesh, now bleed

the teat dry. From our parched lips

tumble words only mouthed before:

“Peak oil.”


Rising oceans nibble at the coastline.

Refugees flee inland, seek sustenance

from the Midwest. Our melting pot

becomes a pressure cooker, everyone

fighting for elbow room, for the last

can of beans or gallon of water.


Suburbia, with its sprawling

subdivisions and dearth of stores,

will be the first to kneel. Survival

of the fittest: you keep only

what you manage to defend.


Love your neighbor as yourself.

That Great Commandment:

the one remaining steadfast law

as faithful multitudes despair

of a promised Second Coming.


-This poem was featured in the first issue. 


Early Sunday, I flee the suburbs and drive

toward the mountains. I pass that deserted house


near Lizard Ridge, the one with a screened porch

piled high with busted furniture. I swear I see


a light glowing in the front room, and I think

of those ancient bulbs that used to burn for a century.


I avert my eyes from a tawny retriever lying broken

by the roadside, unclaimed and decomposing.


As I reach the first overlook, I slow to a stop

for a wild turkey that will not yield. On the trail,


I begin to hike and notice a tree dropping apples

like lopped doll heads. Nearby, a fresh mound


of bear scat, tarry dark and embedded with seeds.

A stray Eastern Tiger Swallowtail mingles


with falling hickory leaves. The cloud cover

is a damp palm smeared across my face. Up here


alone, I encounter no judgment and little purpose

in the journey of living and dying.