By: Hardeep Sabharwal Room and Heart While vacating a room Someone who goes Covers all the necessary things And leaves Waste things Scattered here and there In the room, In the same way When someone goes out of the heart…

By: Yan Yin Phoi The Blind Storm You hear it before you see The skies morph into darkness. Its roar cracks through your soul. Plop plop plop. They fall heavy, swift, as expected. People run and rush for shelter. They…

By: Kashiana Singh Compare and contrast She lived a flower arrangement routine Details, twines, pin holder perfection I box flowers in confused bursts tiger lily’s unabashedly preen peony’s skip in affection embarrassing edges wilt with thirst   She taught with…

By: Harrison Abbott To wake, so many times under the canopy of non-sleep; Dreams held in bizarre crossroads, lashed piers, burnt woodlands, Wherein the clowns reside and horsebacked men tap their pistols. Dreams rocked by ladies’ words from their reptile…

By: Vivek Nath Mishra When I was fifteen, I fell in love with a girl named Shashi and started writing poems for her. She had boy-cut hairstyle and she wore round glasses, large to her face. I sneaked glances at…

By: Tamra Scott-Hunt Nearly every Sunday in 1993, I had dinner at a mafia boss’s mansion. I was friends with a bona fide gangster — the real deal. I’ll call him “Jay” so as not to ruffle any feathers. Though…

By: Emily Jukich Memorize I want to run my fingers down your chest like a reader following the lines on a page Scanning over the braille of your skin I need to be able to see you in the dark…

By: Kat Devitt Rain fell in sheets as Patience watched and wanted the world. Droplets tapped against the window in taunt. Tap, tap, tap. Each droplet told of lands seen from their heights as they fell on her quiet home…

By: David I Mayerhoff Enter At Your Own Peril Life’s warning signs Everywhere to be seen Except for those Who choose not to look Danger lurks all around In all forms Waiting to pounce On those not willing to sacrifice…

By: Ted Mc Carthy FROM THE LONG ROOM The First Fruit The first fruit is the fruit of dreaming. A layer of day peeled and held up to the light: three girls pose by a distant mountain wall, the sea…