Drum Heads, Kalen Keir after My Octopus Teacher    senses dilate open to a dense depth unknown. assuming a glimmer of indigo, I dance weightless, no bones. a light-patterned seafloor: my personal show. the semelparous loss who lent me life, you wouldn’t know, as I straddle my assailant to a silver-   lined shore. i’ve not enough tentacles to tally my predators.  their proportions, overshadowing my den, pervade my                 paradise.   the   reverberation &nbs ..read more

Old Man Feeding Birds, Daniel Mrotek What makes an American? Is it the men and women who spend days working under the sun, with nothing but a water bottle, whose fingers are blistered and hard  with a pain in their back?  Their arms growing tired, from carrying a bucket of chiles that’s worth less than a dollar. They close their eyes and remember. Remember their families  that they left behind. An abandoned son and childless parents.  Un poco mas,  and the working day is over.  Un dia mas, and the week will start over.  Una vida mas,  and another one wil ..read more

Morning Prayer, Jenny Brum Que dios te perdone y cambie tu mente For something I am, that I did not choose Adan y Eva, hombre y mujer es lo que es simplemente I won’t move, please just change your views. Tu eres hombre y casaras con una mujer I am myself, my love life you will not dictate Tu no sabes lo que quieres escoger That I will leave up to fate.  Orar y orar es lo que arre, orar por ti, no cambiare Don’t pray for me, pray for your kids they need it more Tu mente Dios cambiara y que tu alma también libere I do believe my beliefs won’t change, but I can’t do this anymore. Yo te ..read more

Afternoon Tea, Ericka Veliz Sun and moon switch places. I’ve aged, and so have you. Years went by like minutes, as they always seem to do. The open window leaks poison. The foul wind won’t retreat. Air turns bitter with western ash. I breathe it insignificantly. Dried flowers lose full colors. Ancient words lose meaning. I’ve been staring at my bookshelf, never living, only dreaming. About the Author Angela Vodola · Mount St. Mary’s University Angela Vodola graduated from Mount St. Mary’s University with a degree in elementary and special education, and a minor in theology. While there, sever ..read more

Geraldine, Tara Piscatelli I’m thinking about those girls again—        the ones who painted watch faces to glow in the dark     tapering radium-tipped paintbrushes with their lips.   Some of them, the creative ones,                       thought a touch of workplace theft to be a small enough risk             and went out to the dimly-lit clubs sparking,      flashing smiles that glowed like atom bombs to the worthy boys. They couldn’t feel the radiation, suck ..read more

War is Over, Ernest Volynec The freezing plastic shovel bends  at the handle as it penetrates  bright red snow. It screeches  loudly as it scrapes  pale pink matter  off the road. He flings it into the woods he covers it in fresh snow he buries you,  the pieces of you  the ambulance  couldn’t carry away. Starving animals  that heard the gunshot hours before stare hungrily salivating for the life  you threw away. Their dark eyes pierce  through him, threaten  to spill his own mind across the road. He can’t turn away, so he stands guar ..read more

Afterparty 2, Mandi Vivacqua No, not the one drowned in rainbows of paint and ink at every footstep No, not the one that has their jaw hanging on for dear life at their knees Yes, you, the one bashing their head against the light post mimicking the moths in your mouth Who leaves a trail of black flakes that was once a band shirt, I too am an enjoyer of Bee Gees Staying alive even after countless rats at your feet, knives at your throat, and pipes to the mind Your nightingale voice lullabies me to sleep, and it DOES NOT sound like cats making passionate love YES, I have grown tired of the pumpk ..read more

Pink Creek, Louise Rossiter The wind      that day was an irate infant an infant beset with colic tempestuous and tyrannical raging and wailing displeasure grasping and pulling and pushing up, then down, then sideways howling for attention a terror, to be sure especially for anyone who had yet to encounter such voracious and single-minded determination to be inconsolable      much like the beating, wild thing      behind my ribs      full of directionless wrath      the bitter hunter      armed with arrow ..read more

Bright Nights City Lights, Jackie Phuong Ta   I can’t find the words  that won’t escape my lips to reach paper.  Setting up equipment feels unreal,  even creating content doesn’t feel natural enough  with all the chaos in the world.  A break is needed and that’s okay,  mentally you don’t want to be here in this space  it’s uncomfortable – I’m aware.  The conversations won’t end about black lives because we matter. It was never comfortable to talk about  let alone experience each day.  I can’t take my skin color off and hang it up in a ..read more

Midnight Blossoms, Sydney Walker pandemic – (of a disease) prevalent over a whole country or the world. I. this year the cherry blossom trees  bloom later than they ever have. what does that mean  except that we are holding our breath? II. the woman in Food City coughs  when she passes and  I light a candle somewhere, that blue center, deep lungs. we don’t love this world, not really. none of us.  flames as fish  in the Venice canals, flames as the bodies of spring breakers on a beach in Florida as they tear through blue water. III. history rises unprece ..read more