| MOULTING
by Sophia Pandeya Fishmoths silver only after the third moulting leave exuvia like love notes hiding in forgotten pages sixty six moults in a lifetime so many self shells simply imprints of half eaten memories ghosts of glue, paper, photos sugar, hair and dandruff rising in husks of dreams as you open my book, stiff as a hardened scab an ungainly integument trying to keep its secrets from your prying hands |
| THE IF IT HAPPENS AT ALL, IT HAPPENS AS A GIFT
by Jasmine Dreame Wagner To know how hard it is to barter Chickens for eggs when the hens won't lay. To assume the pear is firm enough To be handled and shipped, After so many days, it decays, he says. Have you eaten? The waitress asks. Yes, some eggplant. A cup of coffee. Lettuce, baloney and a slab Of mayo, the waitress hands him A hoagie. He eats outside On the stairs, his back to nobody. A skateboarder plies his ankles Again and again. I hold A good amount of faith In this sandwich, he says. I hold a good amount of Hope that nothing will Surprise me. I chipped a tooth last winter. I chipped a tooth on soup. |
And You Shall Love by Marlene Burns |
| THE CRAWLING TOWARD THE ANSWER
by Peycho Kanev We are like the ants, the flowers, the stones. Running around, blooming beneath the sky, sitting upon the graves with terrible force. They crush us, pick us up, carve some words on our hardened bodies. My tiny black, colorful, heavy brothers, I love you all as the mad God whirls. |
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