“I hold hate in my heart, a hearth. / My hands, kindling.”
By Carlina Duan
“I was creamy / with hope. red muck of stars to line my / underwear. my abdomen thick / with ghosts”
By Serrina Zou
“There is never enough bleach to taint our country clean, only enough / body politics to call ourselves a nation.”
Someone has fake-planted geraniums in a pot down the block from me / and though they are too bright and untextured to be real, they still / sometimes fool me.
Hunger is a kind of sermon; to see a lonely thing and want to make it a part of yourself.
By Maya Owen
“I make do, don’t / I, with my double-edged mind? / At this point, what haven’t I tried?”
“Between which silence / and which tongue will we find God? // Bathe all this in light. / One day we’ll darken into form.”
By Marie Ungar
“These days, I often wish I could scrape myself / out from the inside and exist as a thing / un-woman.”
“his sister mentioned the mental illness that tunneled its way through the family tree, the honeycomb clusters of sisters & fathers & mothers & daughters”