by John D. Lippincott

It hides among shadows beneath her bed

With shoestring wrapped around to keep it closed.

I quickly read my name in streaks of blue

Across a page of cluttered memories.

My conscience, strong and able, chose to let

This bold intrusion slide with doubtful eyes.

The me who lives inside this private book,

Would never snoop, or even drink a beer.  

John D. Lippincott currently studies at Berklee and is a student editor of FUSION.

Empire 2 by Alessio Romano

As night drops down his tarnished, black curtain,

And worn-out faces wear the brake light’s glow,

We sit captured in a terrible halt.

Like a heavy rock in a shallow pond,

All hopes tonight quickly sink to despair.

Blistered hands clench a fist around the wheel.

We can only wait to disassemble.