On my wrist
is a bracelet
Of the deepest shade of red
Fluid and straight
It stains my skin
And cuts deep into my flesh
Handcrafted with loneliness
And embellished with hate
It glimmers in the darkness
And is masked in the day
A gift
Sent from the boy
Who made my sheets reek
Of black love ...
On Your Wrist
TBD
On my wrist
is a bracelet
Of the deepest shade of red
Fluid and straight
It stains my skin
And cuts deep into my flesh
Handcrafted with loneliness
And embellished with hate
It glimmers in the darkness
And is masked in the day
A gift
Sent from the boy
Who made my sheets reek
Of black love ...
On Your Wrist
TBD
TITLE
NAME
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The Contents of a cabinet
Renee Ferguson
Someone I love so much keeps me up at night. With the banging of cupboards and drawers and the opening and closing of the fridge, with quiet footsteps on carpeted stairs and the sharp squeak of the third stair from the bottom floor. I heard her last Thursday and then I slept out on Saturday but she’s fumbled down the stairs every night this week, too petrified to turn on a light. ..
The Contents of a cabinet
Renee Ferguson
Someone I love so much keeps me up at night. With the banging of cupboards and drawers and the opening and closing of the fridge, with quiet footsteps on carpeted stairs and the sharp squeak of the third stair from the bottom floor. I heard her last Thursday and then I slept out on Saturday but she’s fumbled down the stairs every night this week, too petrified to turn on a light. ..
Grey Bird
A.W. Lion-Cleaver
The grey bird beckons me to join him
Follow me! he says
Follow me!
A nest sprinkled with
Crumbles of ash
Built upon marlboro sticks
and poisonous leaves
Follow me!
Feathers grey, turn grey, turning grey
Feathers with knotted ends
Dipped in black
Feathers rough, turn rough, turning rough
Follow me!
Grey Bird
A.W. Lion-Cleaver
The grey bird beckons me to join him
Follow me! he says
Follow me!
A nest sprinkled with
Crumbles of ash
Built upon marlboro sticks
and poisonous leaves
Follow me!
Feathers grey, turn grey, turning grey
Feathers with knotted ends
Dipped in black
Feathers rough, turn rough, turning rough
Follow me!
Sofia Bobroff
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Anna Han
My mother's daughter (excerpt)
Anonymous
To be my mother’s daughter
My greatest vain and vanity
To take pride in my brilliance
Believe in my insignificance
I will love you, too hard until my lungs give out
Will love you until your breathing stops
Down pillow over your head and i will mistake your flailing limbs for attempted hugs
I will fall for people who don’t deserve me
Will always commit myself to those who don’t believe in me
Will always love more than i am loved
Gia Fisher
The lights we choose to follow
Reese Fuhrman
Lights cloud wooded windows
Veiled embraces stricken in harsh morning light
As stars fall to earth
And as the days turn to night
I stay
Ever standing in wait
For a choice, that I may I get to create
People cashing in time like a bank stub
Line out the door on a musty morning
Just waiting for an elderly man to count out the amount they can take
Currencies and commodities as fickle as the time we have to give
The choices to make
The roads less traveled
As we carve paths to suit the journey we long to pass
In wait
For a guiding light
We want to believe in something
Of which cannot be fully understood
For life is full of the in-decphirable
The hidden codes we never get to uncover
Our influential
Our detrimental
The lights we choose to follow
Sage Sanderson
Paloma Rincon
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Jeff Huang
Will Bollini
Aydin Ulubay
Alexandra Zak
Being a Woman: a Collection of Stories (excerpt)
Anonymous
You want to love being a woman so bad, but you can’t.
It stole your innocence, your trust, your confidence, everything you had to give. But, you know that womanhood is not at fault. Womanhood is a victim of the patriarchy’s toxic masculinity, just like you are. You are both damaged beings, desperate to be whole. Desperate to be loved. What a perfect pairing! In all honesty, you do not hate being a woman. How could you truly hate something that is a part of you? You just hate everything it has done to you and everything men have done to you for being a woman. You pray, despite losing faith years ago, that womanhood will love you again so you can love it back. Perhaps, in return for your love, womanhood will make you whole again, whole enough to start healing. Would loving womanhood make you whole?
Jeff Huang
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