March 14, 2019
by Helena Pantsis
It was the sting of the razor against red painted legs,
poltergeist scars burning at the echo of trimmed hairs.
Witch rituals of evening hour;
forward ageing ladies made non-linear at request.
Their hair, their nails, their egos cut to reverse the workings of...
by Nicole Borello
Bleeding on Telegraph
Red blossom lady of Berkeley. Lovely
lady, limping lady of crucifixion
groin. A drifter of bayonet gashes.
On the inside you may be riddled with handgun
holes, but your wounds date back to childhood
burns. Telegraph, filled with racks of tie-dye
by RC deWinter
i looked past your pink scrubbed skin
the pen in the pocket of your shirt
and tried to see your heart
we dined but never really danced
still i hoped
i wanted it to be you
even though you were always nervous
wearing abandonment like a raincoat
by Sara Patterson
Tumblr profile (age | gender | sexuality) I leave
Willing to trade for wine: three work dresses,
two pencil skirts, and one white bra from 1999.
I spent my morning scouring Facebook
for store recommendations
that aren’t H&M and Uniqlo.
The internet keeps tellin...
by Anna Cabe
Each morning, I tie a note
to you on a bird’s leg. The birds change
daily—pigeons, owls, swallows,
parrots the shades of the rain-
bow—dappling the sky. Scroll after scroll—
no answer. They’re not love notes, I swear.
They’re the minutiae of a simple life, the tasks
by Elizabeth York Dickinson
I pace through electric
hallways until the reel
of my firestarter’s blaze
& bogged lotus are
stilled by lapping potions
from a dog dish,
like a good girl.
Elizabeth York Dickinson received her MFA in Writing from Sarah Lawrence College. She has work published or for...
by Sara Matson
her voice is sex
a good phoenix
like guilty human soup
pregnant with glass...
by Amy Shimshon-Santo
there are curves
on the curves
of my curves
I’ve decided to dress my body
in blessings. speak to my breath
with the amazement it deserves
gather around myself in communi...
THE ANGELS OF THE SICKROOM
[ : when you woke ] the blankets we shared became the darkest sultry swamp -
embedding us in touch of tugging limbs and plump bellies
while my fingers entwined into you, your tender ripening bodi...
by Anahita Bilimoria
An engaging book
A stray strand of my hair
Your wedding ring by the bathtub
Leftovers of yesterday’s pizza
The dried leaves in the driveway
The spilled coffee on the table
The water stains on the glass window
The tear stains on my pillow
or was it yours, who knows
THERE’S A SPOT OF BLOOD
in the center of our mattress
it usually blends in with the flowers
when I’m changing the sheets
I check to make sure it’s still there
by Allison Hummel
Squid in its Own Ink
I used to listen to Jacques Brel Is Alive and Singing in Paris.
Now I sit on the couch with a towel in my lap,
I eat rice and beans, find the day exhausting.
I think about godlessness, and about
is in a constant state of diving-down,
or of de...
by Wanda Deglane
it is 2013 and a boy is telling me
he loves me and I’m 14 so how
could I not believe it? he’s loved
five other girls already this year,
but now he loves me and that
makes me special, makes me chosen.
he texts me, you’re so pretty. you have
such soft skin, and my...
Sarah Sophia Yanni
mom tells the lady in her Subaru radio to call me, but the lady doesn’t understand. i’m sorry, i didn’t
catch that. can you please repeat the name? mom says it again. clearer, louder, un-human speech. mouth
wet, wide open. i’m sorry, i didn’t catch that. can y...
by Angali Bhavan
Inanna walks through Delhi
Inanna bites off her askance and saunters towards my
front door. I float away into her hair and dream of
cacti and sandalwood and take her through my city,
through brown shadows and gilded stories, through
cheap candy floss and obsidian eyes, thro...