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
As she called on me to read aloud, a memory swirled warm like a summer breeze across the deep Atlantic: rocking on a black-and-white checked chair by a gas fireplace where my Mom opened Robert Frost and we memorized poems together. She sat close to the flames and melted a h
What makes us Different – Lady in White? What makes us Broken – Clocks Looping in a Broken – Record A Scratch of Chalk? Our Chalkboard was – a Sidewalk Your – Clock Is my Permission Slip – To Slip into my own – Pool Your Broken – Poetry –
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 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 Julia Voyt Pages and pages of 12 size Times New Roman are bled across the paper feverishly, introductions and statistics under methods and conclusions. Not eating food and my bicep is smaller this week I talk faster to my family and I write, write, write. The earth outside smells different and sw