Michele Battiste Your Bed was a caravan of gypsies without country— rucksacks of clavicle, of salt-licked crimson, slivers of silvered skin crossing palm, a faded deck of tarot, fingertipped and risking the upturned card of fool. Every border crossing claimed a changeling, demon-blooded limbs that twitched with every touch of othered skin. Was I the stolen child or were you? We were too tangled to tell. The gypsies passed and cast a tarantella to our bones. In the morning they are searching for a homeland. In the morning we trace their tracks like reading braille, like telling fortunes, like the newly baptized wanting so much to believe. _ ___ _ Table of Contents _ Allison Joseph _ Maureen Tolman Flannery _ Carissa DiGiovanni _ Dion N. Farquhar _ Willa Granger _ Sandra Soli _ Gerald R. Wheeler _ Michele Battiste _ Radames Ortiz _ Brady Rhoades _ Jennifer Weathers _ Helen Wickes _ Allen Gee _ Michelle Panik O'Neill _ Susana Chavez-Silverman _ Susana Chavez-Silverman _ Liz Dolan _ Author Bios