Our candle-flicker leaves sprinkle our green grass bedding. Saargillan of Many Trunks sends through his roots a message, a sunrise truth he ignites beneath the soil, an interconnecting wisdom that marks us all. Many Trunks sends his message: first, Elda and Aralu, your amber leaves weep for our f
In imitation of “Litany of Failed Lines from Previous Poems” by Susan Nguyen We are hurricanes. I am all sighs and gasps when our lips collide. I forgive you for that time you said you didn’t want to get married but then professed me as your wife to your brother’s best friend. Y
We rented the house just north of Blissfield, the alley kitchen made for many traffic jams, though the only horns that would blare trumpeted the readiness of rosemary rye. The guest bedroom sweetened with sawdust, your cedar stain waging an aromatic war against my window silled peppermint.
By Fara Ling Ah Ma, A few weeks ago, I realized I have never written Ah Ma a letter. That means I have never told Ah Ma I love you. There’s no way to say it in Hokkien, Ah Ma’s mother tongue. Forcing the syllables wa ai lu to sit next to […]
By Emma Gail Compton I made the table I eat dinner at. The wood was cheap but sturdy. The stain I chose is a dark oaky red and makes the small round table seem more expensive than it was. One could find something similar at any store, but this table, my table, I made. I […]
By Gabrielle Crone Only a hillbilly would bring their injured dog to the vet using twine as a leash. At least that’s what our vet, Westley, announced when he saw my grandpa, Charles Bailey, in the lobby of the clinic twine leash in hand. Gizmo had injured his paw, most [&helli
