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Felix
By Rachel Hoarau (Photo by Pixel Free Images) My paw pads aren’t callused like my mother’s. They are soft and pink. The light is bright, and I can hardly see. Mom licks my head Says bye bye and runs out of the den I want to go out there, too! It looks so bright and green. A year has gone by and I’m running every day, Crushing green sprouts in soft soil and spilling down over the hillside, nearly falling into the chittering brook. There is another like me in the brook’s wavy water. He is red and white with deep brown eyes. I dance with him. I think he…
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The Weight of Kevlar
By Ryan Stryffeler Yesterday I was helping my daughter get ready for school She put on her Kevlar backpack while I tied her shoes “If anything happens, I love you” I said with a smile And gave her an extra-long hug to hold her close for a while And smell her thick hair, place my lips on her scalp, For a moment unconscious of anything else I looked at her then, so trusting, so pure, So ignorant of what she’ll be forced to endure They grow up so fast, everyone says But why must growing up bring her closer to death?
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Angelica
By Thea Angeles (Photo by Adobe Stock) Innocent and demure she may seem The moment you first encounter her; But as time goes by and by, Get to know her more And you’re in for a surprise. Yes, she’s still that ingenue you knew That fragile and innocent flower; Only later, you will find A free-spirited princess she actually is Especially in times of adrenaline and excitement.
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The Doll in the Woods
By Mackenzie Elmer (Photo by Connor Beer) I saw a dollstuck on a fencewhile walking todayin the forest dense. Her head was smashed in,her eyes were cracked.Her lovely white dressthe crows had ransacked. She looked so lonelysitting thereon rusted barbed wire,rotting in despair. I thought a lot abouttaking her home,rescuing her from her gravein the moldering loam. I’d fix her right up‘til she’s good as new.I’d clean her faceand polish her shoes. But I knew it was pointless,she was too far gone.So I looked straight aheadand quietly moved on.
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The First Peril of Love
By Aaron Caplea The first peril of love The picture of a younger man- A sentiment of long ago; Surrounding, an old woman stands, Remembering her time: A boy and girl, both holding hands, Not seeing where the night will go; Their unrepentant heads will band Together, they will find. . A girl will lock her dreams inside; A boy does what he knows: Himself, agree to never tell The very girl his name. The woman can recall the time: A land that god had sown- And one that ordered fire set To any ounce of shade. . But every thought of him felt false, The memories too hard to…
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lexapro
By Amy Myers my mind was once so loud. knocking on my skull; tyranny, invisible to all, to me, never able to quiet down. my mind was once so loud. lit by merely one, dark cloud. reaching out to the eye of the storm, they responded with the thought that my cerebral fight is out of the norm and assigned me my mask to be bought. i waited in line with all the rest to become numbed into a trance and absolve the knot in my chest with one orange bottle that i glanced. each day i swallow a synthetic seed that slides down my throat dissolving…
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natural roots
By Amy Myers thoughtless days pound in my head, but the absence of thinking prevents my lying in bed. i grow…yet in a backwards motion, like an arrogant tsunami pulling in all sides of the aggressive ocean. my brunette hair creeps in from my roots, reminding me of my overwhelming mind that my bleached hair tried to mute. my bangs fall heavy by the sides of my ears, soon will they reach my chin; something they haven’t done in years. effortless growth with heavy intention, perfectly crafted bleached and toned deception.
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no more apples
By Amy Myers a couplet a day keeps the depression at bay… in the time that i have here i’ve spent it in fear fleeting days simply wash away within the blue lights of a camera, so bright education may continue but my mind stays behind you i am not learning; rather, i am yearning for a time that i can say that i would love to stay
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the two x’s
By Amy Myers sunny days tend to be worse than others, for the inner monologue is so..so loud. i am never enough…not in your eyes, but mine burn in each reflective surface. i hate to see it, but i have to look. my weeping circles gaze back at me, begging to be loved by their owner. i’m so hostile….but only to myself. as if i’m experiencing stockholm syndrome within my own body. i don’t wish to leave, but i am so unkind to my reflection. comparison shadows me, like an altered version of myself. i walk, and it’s there. i run, and it’s there. i think, and it’s there. like…
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The Diner
By Melina Bowser The ceramic mug sits heavy in dainty hands— steam warming her face. Perfect circles stained the boomerang laminate countertop again. She sits quietly, taking long breaths between sips, thinking of a friend. Pulling out a book, she scrawls cursive words onto a page of ardor. Tears blur the pen ink knowing she will never read these words meant for her.
