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Galactic Waters
By Matthew Brothers Resting against the backdrop of pinpointed light, the nebulous cloud like stretched sea smoke. There are no waves in the black, yet the sea and space share vastness, one much greater than the other. The snowball nebula rests in the cold void, it’s the opposite of snowball earth, it’s beautiful. Well, snowball earth is beautiful, from the outside at least. It floats on a sea holding black matter and cosmic clams. How can the sea and space have a connection? The milky seas send up their light for the satellites to see, and that is all the connection they need. Take this fact from me and you…
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Pushing Past the Past
By Kim Cardello These feelings of dread, sorrow so overwhelming it’s hard not to cry. You cast me aside carelessly I fold myself inward like the waves we watched once, freely hand in hand Moving forward is hard there is too much pushing and pulling, my emotions taking me back but my heart nudging me forward. One day it’ll be easier, treading on the water; this boundary, keeping me from drowning, sweeping me to solid ground where I can bask in the sun again without remembering you.
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The Red Wheelbarrow
By Andrew Jones so much depended upon that red wheel barrow you pushed across dirt, leaving a dusty trail across our barren backyard, no rain to glaze; just two small kids playing in the clay, mom roasting a chicken.
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Elephants
By Melina Bowser After death, Is there Heaven? Hell? Nothing? The unnerving question Hidden away in a darkened room inside my mind A place I never visit in the day Yet, I can’t seem to escape it at night When my heavy eyelids finally surrender to the exhaustion I run to shut the door Lock it up before it slowly seeps out I make it just in time I’ve suppressed the hunger for answers Never wanting to let myself wander A place I’d only imagine to be daunting But one can only fast for so long On a warm evening A few months after he left us I allowed myself…
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Freedom and Leaves
By Jennifer Weismantle Part I There’s a twisting leaf I notice, eyes fixed on the sky. Wishing to be free from its safe home on a branch. To journey through the sky to lead somewhere new, Impatient leaf, lighthearted wanderer. The twisting leaf’s shadow grows as it falls, A massive hawk’s shadow casts me in darkness. I know what it’s here to do, Stalking my wanderer, a calculated killer. Part II Like the twisting leaf, my ducky likes to wander. Rushing to the gate of her protective enclosure. Disrupted from the days when she could frolic free, There’s more in the sky today than just leaves. From a twisting leaf…
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Canton
By Leah Dietle In the cold of early April, when the frost still clings to grass like enamored lovers, and winter’s last icy breath clings to spring’s dew- that’s when I was brought home. My hometown: a modest white house with wood in the back, serving as the backdrop of my escapist fantasies. Running feet crunching sticks and dirt staining my knees, the sun casting a hazy auburn in its metamorphosis to dusk; my mother’s call ricochet between the trees. Come home, Come home. My hometown: Where buckeyes break from the trees; digging into my back when I fall. The sublime knocking at the front door: Come play, Come play.…
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Spilling Tea
By Emilee Friend They gossip As I sip earl grey. No sugar is added To sweeten their words Or the bergamot on my tongue. They add cream To lighten the topic. I prefer my tea bitter and black, Better to keep me alert Of those with a knife at my back. They gulp down Nightshade tea, Declining the offer Of lavender, chamomile, or mint. Tea parties are wasted If you don’t poison each other With words. They let the drinks get cold. Teacups crack, Dripping red drops of rooibos, Staining the white cloth. They don’t take a break. The stain sets.
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Museum Fatigue
By Anna Potter Upon viewing “Three Figures at the Base of Crucifixion” by Francis Bacon Garish orange framed by sterile white walls, black hole churning in redbrick universe, and I, small spectator, sucked into its revolution. Fifteen is the age of revelation, the year of waking up to the sharp edges of this flesh-suit, that eternal itching, that toothless smile, pedestrian still in matters of horror, that worldly sting still fresh on my cheek. * Consciousness demands screaming, I think. The lungs of a newborn can attest to this theory, how we all emerge, gory and guileless, shrieking into this world. But for the dying, for the dead, …
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The Fight for Gender Equality: 7 Discriminations Women Still Face in The Workplace
By Hallie Boburka Have you ever heard of a conversation concerning the rights of men? I have not, but I have heard of conversations regarding women’s rights. In comparison to men, women are still seen as the damsel in distress rather than the strong and powerful hero. Women are also considered to be incapable of holding high positions of power and deemed only important for the process of reproduction. Inequality can be seen everywhere and in different forms. A common place for women to experience inequality is in the workplace, often through the form of discrimination. As nice as it would be for everyone to believe in working women, sadly…
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Mother Tale
By Anna Potter We tell each other stories I tell you how in eighth grade I tried to graft new flesh Onto my birthmark, how when I began the crime of bleeding, I dammed myself with cotton and chocolate. You tell me how your body formed from the crust of earth, how desire rose in you with the same ache as morning sky, and how heavy it has been ever since. I had forgotten this until now, but once An old friend coaxed me with stories of how the sun rises in Haiti, how my body’s vacancy might soothe his own. Another recalled how she observed the curvature of the…
