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
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
Trimmed branches bleed ice, Gray grass murmurs, discontent. Clouded dome white weeps. Rippled water Reality distorted. Walking back from class. Small in a big pond Standing at a puddle’s edge Sees upside-down world. Branches together Pointing, reaching, kissing tips Like cathedral doors.
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 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
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 […]