Category: poetry
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Two Poems by Kristina Krumova
XX Century Be patient, be patient… The Tomorrow will come two-dimensional abstract almost colorless wrapped in shiny cellophane of forgotten opportunities sent anonymously From the stamp, glued askew, will look at you… The Today XIX Century We are sitting at the table, drinking… The Yesterday is a good company For every sip of absinthe I…
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Two Poems
by Kristina Krumova XX CenturyBe patient, be patient…The Tomorrow will cometwo-dimensionalabstractalmost colorlesswrapped in shiny cellophaneof forgotten opportunitiessent anonymouslyFrom the stamp, glued askew,will look at you…The Today XIX CenturyWe are sitting at the table, drinking…The Yesterday is a good companyFor every sip of absintheI get a story in returnin a picture of three wordsWhere are you?…
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I Have No Time
I have no time by Rebecca Ruth Gould to cover up and correct the unfortunate crack in the window that exposes my nude body. Sorry, construction worker, You’ll have to control your gaze. This is my home. I will enjoy my nakedness any way I please.
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Gronzy
by Rebecca Ruth Gould The girl who invited me to live in her tent camp so she could teach me Chechen sat staring in the corner, fearing that any motion might trigger an explosion. Grozny’s flats were levelled. Dolls lay disembowelled on the floor. Glass shards covered the earth. The road’s yellow ribbon rolled like…
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Possessive
by Kathleen O’Neil That strip of cloth is mordant red. I’d wrestle it, but who wants to be alone? Such a deceptive slip of cloth laid out over velvet cream skin. My little amoret. Touches you lay over yourself say it all. It’s autonomous, a cryptex of brocade and cambric and tells me your fears.…
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Memories
Memories by Kathleen O’Neil This translucent organza covers my skin like snow; the innermost part of me is burning away. It just smolders. Oxygen, the air, it’s everywhere. The cold poison will seep down through soft delicate shoulder, under the left collarbone edge through bone and the shield of muscle.
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The Burial
Ally Schwam is a poet, artist, and professional UX/UI Designer. Her poetry has previously appeared in Tupelo Press’ 30/30 Project, UMD’s Literary Magazine Stylus, and Poetry WTF?! She lives in Bethesda, MD.
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Belt
by Stacey Z. Lawrence He is eleven, almost a manwhen the belt’s buckle catchesunder his skin.As usual hegrips the kitchen sinkstares at the faucet dripas she whips.He never cries, but this timebloody puddles stainhis white socks, the canvasof his Converse,gore trickles down his leg.She places it on the counter,bits of his ass impaledupon sharp metal…
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God & The Invention
by Ally Schwam I created the rain. It’s one of the first things I created. Two years ago I started as an assistant at the Creation Center and then a year later got promoted to junior programmer. The first task I got was to program what a higher-up called “rain.” Rain was just water that…
Dream Noir 