Eating Together
Nicholas Salvador
“Nikko! Get the table ready, the food is done!”
Piping hot bowls filled with bakareta, a beef stew with tomato sauce, carrots, and potatoes, and pancit, a noodle dish. My dad serves all of us. My family sits…
Category:More
The Arboretum
Erin Snyder
A woman in a burgundy trench coat,
felted black hat, feather topped,
harboring a thick Boston accent
meets you on the Linden Path.
Because you look her in the eye
she asks you if you pray, if you feel
a…
Starfish, Sleeping
Seph Hamilton
In my sea-combed hair
You blink awake.
With your languid ray
Push gold behind my ear.
Tell me of the pearls
I am to wear.…
Raspberry Sorbet
April Gompers
A girl with lips the color
Of raspberry sorbet
Takes a drag of her last cigarette,
Or so she says.
She dips a small wand
Into a barrel of soapy liquid,
Reflecting her face in rainbows,
And her raspberry lips…
Stained Glass Sea
April Gompers
The colored air that we breathe
Ricochets from the waves
Of a stained glass sea.
And I know that the ceiling is only concrete,
But I feel it elevate me,
Almost making me believe.
I want so badly to only…
Untitled
Erica Charis
A mother’s tongue
forges sounds into syllables
blowing gently on the sparks
of recognition, traveling
from attentive ears to amazed eyes,
lighting the fresh kindling
in an old hearth.
Moi, Dich, We.
Embers radiate
beneath the newer wood
giving energy,…
first/last
Paige Chaplin
i can only picture this now:
your starfish body
melting into stale bedsheets
alone.
when once,
underneath the same
collapsible cotton roof,
we loved each other for the first time.
i cannot say i remember
how it felt
when you…
The Pain of Creation
Emmett Ceglia
My baptism had no business with fire
It was my creation that was in a holocaust
The womb from which I was expelled
Rooted me in the unholy churning of the center of the earth
In conflagration flame, I was…
Sonnet 23
Jordan Casty
The moon is only good for hanging hats.
It’s lost whatever magic songs it played
And now it’s just a night-light for the rats.
A whisper in a monstrously loud parade.
The sun is just a joker in the sky,…
In Her Own Time
Inés Velasco
The house was quiet went she went in. Isabelle remembered how much she loved going to that house with her parents when she was still a kid. Forty-five minutes away from Chicago, the “lake house,” as she called it, had…