Lunar As cosmic chance would have it,the disorder caused me to withereclipsed by the rapture of your love. How could I not relate you to the falling?To growing older than this body?You became entwined with its shade. When the blood moonshys away from the tangerine sun,I must wonder which body has moved on and where … Continue reading Two Poems by Ashtyn Layne
by Sam Ray Sam Ray Sam Ray is a fresh face to poetry, but growing up with the strip as her backyard it’s no wonder this poet knows how to captivate a crowd. The multi-talented 26 year old has featured at places like Cork & Thorn and the Utah Arts Festival. Her poetry is truthful … Continue reading WOMEN.
by Sarah Bollman Rivers run from loose lips and glazed eyes staring ever forward. Teeth close around soft muscle, clenching and releasing out of rhythm Hemoglobin, iron rich, Syrup-thick plasma sliding down past places it might have Resided, now standing empty and Longing, longing for the maybes, the Could’as, would’as, should’as Draped gently between splintered … Continue reading Eat Your Heart Out
by Rickey Rivers Jr Tribulation Beads of sweat given to every woman with knotted hair, dark children hide in the cool shadows of their mothers. Walk. Watch them walk across the desert, feet blistering and burning, life forever churning. The animals stare and laugh but the mothers continue on because the mothers must be strong … Continue reading Two Poems
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.
5 Ways to Support Women Facing Extreme Abortion Bans by Marina Flores Continue reading 5 Ways to Support Women Facing Extreme Abortion Bans
by Catherine Zickgraf Paper neighbors drape my couch.They hold the baby,bake casseroles I can’t taste.I nibble when he sleepsor sleep when he napsafter I’ve boiled the bottlesand washed some spoons. I awoke this morning on the roll of toilet paper.Seems it cushioned my cheek sufficientlywhen I slipped near dawn down the tiles. Postpartum lasts at … Continue reading Postpartum
by Catherine Zickgraf We were empty-eyed cinder blocks,ringed keys unlocking the doorknobs. Among junior high’s sleepy congregation,an audience of our class’s generation,only some of us showed up praised and amen-ed. School taught me typing for college essaysand gave me chances to run away. We’d flood from the school at 3:05—but only some return now for … Continue reading Eighth Grade