By: Katherine Wei I intertwine my fingers with the laces of today,as the irregularity of my heartbeatthumps to a seagull’s flight, flapping.If the forgone moments can rip me into clear-cut halves,torn between what ifs and no, that happened already,maybe then…

By: Carson Pytell Physis The waking hour, upon a high promontorystretching from woods over a mirrored sky. A breeze picks up, tousles matted hair,traces a stiff chill from the neck down. Fifty yards out is a rocky islet, one tree.In…

By: Michelle Yang “Do you feel that? Is that an earthquake? Oh, it’s only Brianna walking down the hall,” Lorren snickered, talking to her table as she spotted her favorite pastime.             Brianna walked by with her head down, leaving…

By Alessandro Romero It didn’t hit me when I got out of bed this morning to toss a couple of ground coffee mini- mountains into my French press, or when I looked out the window to see yet another cloud-filled…

By: Aldriech Villamor I woke up in the dark, much like the rest of the patients here. It was 6:30 in the morning at the Anglewood Mental Hospital, and I was absolutely drained from the medications they had put me…

By: Tricia D. Wagner Teo tapped the last nail in the window frame and stepped back. He studied his work—tight seams. Even plumb. The pane clean and full of Baja’s blue ocean rolling behind him. Hanging windows on shanties was…

By: Charlotte Edwards Dear all the men in my lifeCorrectionDear all the toxic men in my life I will not write a poem about youSome men aren’t worth the wordsI won’t romanticize our fightsAnd the way my lungs burnedWhen I…

By: Sinchan Chatterjee Chimney-sweeper I tie a rope around my stomachAnd ask to be lowered again.I hang in the airAnd wipe the four sides of the walls with care:One layer at a time.I sing myself a songAs I go lower…

By: donnarkevic Love Is Like a Black, Black Eye I let the coon dogs get outWhen his buddies arriveNo CrownJesus,I do not have a beard to pluckOwe three payments on his truckWhen I go to work, no one asksWhat the…

By: Stephen Kingsnorth A line of light at curtain side, above the sill, beside the wallaccompanies the morning call of hoover drone, push then retreat;and then Dad’s brushing, rhythmic, swish to polish shoes,I see him standing, newsprint spread on dining…