Six Ways of Radical
by Phoebe Wray

He was tortured
bones breaking flesh tearing
for suggesting
under his breath in astonishment
that the earth
moved around the sun.

She happily
paid cash
despite the fact
the ATM
was down.

The day she was sworn in
as President of the United States
the sun came out
though it had been snowing
all morning long.

The Grandmothers marched
slowly, with dignified steps
and arms interlocked,
across the bloody no-man's land
between the lines.
Both sides stopped firing.

The river sparkled.
Elbow to elbow they jostled for position
and cursed the lack of free space.
Except for one man who stood alone,
Smiling, using worms.

Deep in the cave, the bears
huddled around the man,
their ears swiveling, eyes bright.
He showed them how to engage
the safety, how to load and shoot,
and kept a careful record
of which bear took which weapon.


A list of links to some more of Phoebe Wray's work - short stories and writings published elsewhere - can be found at