Dec 8, 2020 | All Poetry, Issue 2, Issue 2 Poetry
My TV tells me that the Midwest will be colder than parts of Antarctica this week. It tells me that homeless people in Chicago are bracing. When I’m cold, I come inside. I make hot chocolate with marshmallows. When I’m cold, I uncurl from the weight of my...
Dec 8, 2020 | All Poetry, Issue 2, Issue 2 Poetry
1. kill a girl named safety-constance with hair that falls in waves of ‘should’ and ‘shouldn’t,’ she works hard at spinning sugar and spice and she always says please and sorry for everything, begging to exist while apologizing for the fact that she does, and i can’t...
Dec 8, 2020 | All Poetry, Issue 2, Issue 2 Poetry
Yolk-yellow flowers with trumpet mouths proclaim their self-importance to the clouds in a field of cracked-egg daffodils, unable to see their uniform reflections in the wide blue sky stretching over their petals, voices lost in the symphony of cicadas...
Dec 8, 2020 | All Poetry, Issue 2, Issue 2 Poetry
thinking about how long it may take for the trees around me to go from their spiny empty look to a beautiful tangled-up green and my words are sticking in my throat because I’m not quite understanding how talking about the kinds of cars we liked got us to this...
Dec 8, 2020 | All Poetry, Issue 2, Issue 2 Poetry
the frigid january air snaps at what skin is exposed to the grey sun—all clouds, no sky. the mediterranian waves bite the boardwalk planks and the black rocky coast, all salty spittle and angry roars, crashing, crashing. this is the place...
Dec 8, 2020 | All Poetry, Issue 2, Issue 2 Poetry
i want to escape to the far reaches of the forest and lie down in the space where the foliage opens up just enough for the moon to slip lovingly through. i miss her long, pale arms and her comforting embrace, when she’d hold me in the night and sway so lightly...
