Poetry

River in The Sky

BY BOBBI NEWSOME

teasing tracing threading through my fingers / taking kites / (and paper toys) / from tiny hands / billowing bellowing biting blowing but / always there to listen to / (and hold us accountable whenever we utter)/ a prayer a promise a plea a plight…

Are You Lonely Tonight?

BY NOEL MUNGUIA-MORENO

It’s the golden hour, but I’ve prepped for blue, does yearn seep from pine bark or the space between my fingers, are the daffodils my Father brought my Mother enough to fill the empty vase she holds? A promise was enough when I love you seemed too simple…

Golden Shovel For Florence And The Machine And Christian Radio

BY SARAH LEDET

the thrift store plays only word fm christian radio and i / scream when lyrics snag on brain folds like keys in cloth pews, gathered / together is me on the kneeler, staring at my own crucifixion, one day You / will save me, here, in this vestibule, here…

Project Anomaly

BY: NIC HANNAFORD

A haiku has three / short lines, syllables going / five, seven, five. Done. / One soft look at the / life of nature and beauty. / Lonely little frame. / Profound, they are but / a cold, blue-flowered hologram / Effigy of life…

Daughter Of Many

BOBBI NEWSOME

Seafood over soul food / My best friend says, not with her mouth / It’s in the way she wines her waist and weighs her words / As she should, strong and confident / From Jamaica, from Brooklyn, / An Island Girl…

Finally Mourning My Childhood Summers

BY: EMILY HIZNY

blueberry bushes grew by Grandma’s house in an open field that bears the scars of grape plants. it was her father that planted them and her mother who dug them up. a white-paneled house sits just off the property, lonely. like a lighthouse…

Beat

BY EMILY HARRIS

sip midnight moonlight in mugs it’s a meteor / shower up there shower me in monochromatic / blindness i want to sit alone in a sandstorm of / my own making and learn to fly. two men fell / from the sky in the almost-dawn…

Autumn Warmth

BY: LIZZIE BOYER

my body is warm but not like the hot chocolate bubbling in the pot on cold december mornings more like cozying up in a sweater on a cool autumn day when the leaves start to play like children on playgrounds as they…

Chrysalis Beliefs

BY: MAGGIE MAURO

I used to believe lilacs drew in butterflies / and wondered why the purple blossoms hemming my backyard / were the exception. / A girl gorged on myths, I wicked stories from the breath of my father and questioned…

Witness, Weeping

BY: EMILY HARRIS

frozen lifeless statues felt totally alone its death enchanted me a statue couldn’t understand the silhouette of battle…

Colibri

BY: NOEL MUNGUIA-MORENO

There is hum on this warm wind / this land was named mine, but I hold no grounds / to claim solid earth when our home is / the red current between stars. / At each beat of a tiny wing / a heart pumps nectar into flower wine…