Magdalen Nicole Cheatham | She spoke to me of the universe, / and I revealed that it scared me. / She marveled at how it continued to expand / and told me that was her favorite part.
Marc Swan | A wise man once said— /
The seed that will kill you is already planted. / I’m not a farmer, horticulturist, into agronomy / or raised bed gardens. I tend more toward walks /
Sarah Zbidi | He almost always hated birthdays, and like the /
Bedouin elders, cried, prayed. / These days, you / almost always feel bad for turning a year older.
Zach Bernstein | Let me show you how the whole world is a puff of smoke hiccupping out of a truck’s back we pray to while shutting our eyes and bowing our heads so we can’t read the license plate number as it hauls away our wooden smiles in rattling tin cans string-tied to the sides,
Hannah Braley | Scrabble racks are a / challenge. / It’s all fun and games / until he plays / “C U N T”.
Daniel Recktenwald | What happened to you then is over now. / And unlike it, you are not over yet. / As you outlived it without knowing how, / you’ll remember. That means you can forget.
Surazeus | The house of the moon where I keep my soul / shines invisible to the eye of greed / for its walls are fragile pages of light / where I write down all the dreams I forgot / in words that slip through my fingers like rain / before I can taste memories of your love.