by Martha Ellen
I don’t know her name. I call her Oma. I love her.
Read More »Category: Words
2 poems
Miniscule Creatures; Colossal Impacts
by Quinn Ryszka
A flash of black with orange siding inches its way across the forest floor in Malaysia. An unusual sight that is almost instantly recognizable to anyone fortunate enough to have learned of this strange creature. However, it is also a new sight for many. Being initially discovered only 200 years ago, having its male counterpart discovered close to 100 years ago, and research into its diet still ongoing, the Trilobite Beetle was hiding right under our noses for around 47 million years. Believed to be a detrivore, this beetle may be part of one of the most exciting categories of insects. The bugs that rely on this unusual diet of decomposing organic matter may be small, but their impact is large. With only 35 species of insects classified as detritivores, these helpful critters get to work and take up one of the most important roles in our ecosystem: decomposition!
Read More »A Home With No Eggshells
by Alma Ariaz
Your mother doodles
when she talks on the phone.
(You call it doodling, she calls it
scribbling. Both acts serve the same
purpose, but you sense the subtext
behind the distinction.
It isn’t quite clear.
It could not be clearer.)
Sobriety is a marathon, not a sprint
by Lindsey Goodrow
The last day I drank was in no way remarkable. There was no epiphanous moment, nor atrocious circumstance that forced me to make the decision. It was a day like any other, when I wondered if this would be the time it finally stuck. The last day I drank had been one of many last days, another notch in a trailing belt of failed attempts.
Read More »Concrescence
by Mike Towey
This is a fumbling towards chaos
No whimpering in dark memories
Read More »His Mother Used to Isolate Him in Her Coldness
by Huina Zheng
Like a frost creeping through the early morning, her indifference enveloped him, a chill more pervasive than the winter wind. While he never ignored his own child, his mother had often enveloped him in a suffocating neglect. This disregard swirled around their home, leaving an icy sheen over his heart.
Read More »2 poems
Let me cut my finger: Understanding the complex love of a mother
by Rossana Segovia
“You’re going to hurt yourself, let me do it.”
My mother snatched the kitchen knife from my hand and pressed the vegetables gently against the wooden board, raising the knife edge to create thin, uniform cuts, forming perfect circles and cubes for the soup she had cooked but would present to the family as my original dish.
Read More »A Wing-stroked Spectacle
by Daniel Moreschi
Segmented sets of starlings sharply elevate
towards candescent skies, suspend, then circulate
in sync. Their wingspans whisper sunset symphonies
while manifesting silhouetted symmetries.
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