Saira Iqbal I scare myself When they freeze in the chilling air Shift of me entering the room. Frightened, I suppose. I am only watching out for them, Warning them that my own home Has already grown cold. The warmth Of her gaze, of her hands Kneading dough in earthen bowls Endeavors to hide Secret,…

Lucas França Francisco We ain’t the light but we hold it—lampstands, y’see. Showing Paul around, your servant, a shell, camping around the Hill Country like a brother, a prophet, y’know? John sent a letter back—he had little tacos with minced onions and met an ecoterrorist at the breakfast café and a bagel (white, plain), and…

Emily Howes Femininity. A word as beautiful as a rose encased in glass for all to marvel at. Feel the way it effortlessly flows off your tongue. But when you lift the rose-colored glass, be careful not to prick yourself on the concept’s thorns. Like I did. Like all too many have.Don’t: Raise your voice—proper…

Eden Rumsey He picks through detritus, Gnarled theropod talons Scraping against uniform bricklay. He approaches them— Those pig-kings— And they gawk and coo, thinking him affectionate. The tender-fleshed giants do not recognize Only time saved them from Fossil-age ravening. They toss him a scrap from their troughs— Life thrown away in careless excess— And he…

Lauren Brown I fear time. The surface you’re sitting on now will still exist even after you. There was a time where you didn’t exist and the world that now revolves around you was still in progress. At a certain point in this life, our soul and our flesh finally agree; Our time ahead of…

John Thompson Guillén me and momma kept a puppy named alamedasecret from poppa and joie and clarice and dee-dubya and anne-bethasking why me and momma made a collar outta pull tabs offcoke cans and a sweatpant drawstringwhile alameda slept beneath stars and the wheelbarrowwhere she lapped hose water and ate the stale ends of breads…

Joshua Cirotto Moody as the vagaries of the New Orleans weather,her clothes hang off her nonchalantlylike the moss off the tall trees.We walk down a long sidewalk flanked on either side by them,courtiers in her royal hallpillars of St. Louis cathedral.When she curses,sun flits through the clouds and warms my cheek.She broods on the patio…

Bella Devega I wonder whether he would have wanted us to gazeupon those fourteen unsigned olive trees. Fifteen billowingwisps of hue, only one stroked with Vincent, pride etchedonto canvas pulled taut.Batty might be synonymous with genius these days,and we couldn’t leave dead and well alone,because he dared to see cerulean and indigoin a place men…

Iliana Tangarova On Sundays,the woman wise enough to measure the amount of alcohol pours threefingers of vodka into the bohemian wine glass that sits two feet awayfrom the kitchen countertop’s vast ledge. Her arms, fastened by herperished lover’s (was there more than one?; she cannot remember),cradle, are spasming, confined by unperceivable safety strapscrisscrossing her body.…

Genevieve Kent Grief is when you are sourdough, a puddle from the motherno end, no beginning, amorphousspread out, held only by the shape ofwhat happens to contain you.Then, you are beaten, again and againthwapped against the wallof the mixing bowlor the counterhowever god prefers to toughen you up.Each beating you grow tighteryou cling relentlessly to…

Victoria Trevino You still waltz with me in my dreams.Gifting me the nurture I’ve always craved from you.The warm, gentle kisses I’ve never secured.Viewing life from a rose-tinted lens.Forgetting to hide my soft underbelly.Like a child’s gaze for approval.Why do I ache when I’ve given everything you wanted?It’s been years since I’ve felt your painful,…

Cain Yin I was once a perfect angel– now I spin in empty rooms. Picture me on fire, now paint me as the star. When I’m good I sing like preachers. Every good thing comes to life. Day dreamers, starlets. Dead girls and their pills. Claria Bow splits a fag, ashes it in a can.…