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  The Cuban Dancers His hand was so rough, the Cuban dancer. I held it as we twirled at the after show party. Palms, backs, fingers all so rough. I held his partner’s hands. Hers were the same rough rough,   rough.   Such delicacy   of performance with hands of hard labour. How could that be. The Dashboard Horus Best of the Net Nominees for 2026/2027 are: POETRY Luis Cuahtemoc Berriozabel's "Tiny Houses" Strider Marcus Jones's "Fading Sphinx" (10-09-2025) * Michael La Bombarda's "Social Adjustment" (05-22-2026) * Rick Lupert's "A Day at Sea" Bruce Morton's "Lava Field" Lynn White's "The Cuban Dancers"
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  https://www.magcloud.com/webviewer/3399784?__r=8659367&s=w
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https://www.magcloud.com/webviewer/3399784?__r=8659367&s=w  
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https://www.magcloud.com/webviewer/3399784?__r=8659367&s=w  
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  Getting Lucky Once they brought you luck, especially if persuaded to cross your path. Now their luck has turned and they’ve become familiar as the witches little helper, cursed as the devil’s disciple. But still they sit, still as night glossy coat shining black, eyes gleaming   like silver stars purring. https://poetsespresso.weebly.com/uploads/1/2/1/6/121689046/volume_15_is._2_template_-_copy.pdf
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  Stripy Jerseys There were a lot of ragwort plants around the library. Some were bare of leaves and covered with orange and black stripy jersey caterpillars. Others were lush and green with leaves and devoid of caterpillars. As usual the family planning strategy of the cinnabar moth left much to be desired. I began to transfer them carefully from the leafless to the lush. I stood back to admire my achievement, momentarily disconcerted when a rather stern looking stranger asked what I was doing. I explained. “Huh”, she said, “I’ve been doing the same over the other side. I though it was only me who does this.” It was a strange way to begin a friendship but it lasted all her life. I think maybe I should go to the grave in the woodland, where her body lies and scatter a few ragwort seeds. Maybe the moths will come each year and make   a living memorial. She would like that, I think. https://poetsespresso.weebly.com/uploads/1/2/1/6/121689046/volume_15_is._2_template_-_copy.pdf
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  Now I Am Bald Now I am bald and a fashionista by default, as it was never my fashion before and no one followed me but now,   heads are shaved as if following in my footsteps, following my trail   of discarded hair now lost   with my identity.   Now I am bald, my head as naked as my fears fears I can’t lose,   fears unattached while my hair is un-attachable, filling the teeth of my comb, and lying on my pillow in tufts of terror. Chemo does that - forces me to hunger for my loss forces me to follow or face my fate bewigged   Now I am bald. https://uglywriters.com/2026/10/07/now-i-am-bald/?fbclid=IwY2xjawUy8thleHRuA2FlbQIxMQBwZG9mAXNydGMGYXBwX2lkEDIyMjAzOTE3ODgyMDA4OTIAAR78TnSz41FYCqV1spRCA1l06cwi0aYGvBDx0w9zzZPIBdEcoDr9oNatiVOInA_aem_OO4uDfNYUvFs2F5tf6A8wg
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