by Louis Faber
Read More »She is not fragile,
that is the wrong word
You Made Pancakes For Your Family and I Am Melting
The Pond
by Penelope Pressman
I walk with my feet skimming the edge of the pond I’ve seen everyday of my life
watching it with eyes that grow older each time
running alongside it on feet that gain experience each time
lifting into the sky above it my arms that gain strength each time
filling it with tears I wipe away each time
breathing out the air from my lungs to create new ripples in its surface – each time
each time I walk by the pond, the pond watches me walk by
Mutagenesis
by Audrey T. Carroll
An agent of change
Think: mutation
Think: chaos
Mitosis is a splitting, copying
two parts, codes mimicked
but not always right
Complications are messy
Read More »Gravity
by Cecilia Kennedy
When the kya, kya, he, he, shoosh, shoosh labor-breathing ended, a tiny thing entered this world on a string. Nurses had to pull her down from the ceiling. I never even got a chance to hold her.
“It’s rare,” the doctors said, “but it happens,” and they rattled off something about the displacement of oxygen in a pair of human lungs and chromosomes and genes and splices of things, but in the end, the outcome was clear: my child would float through the world.
Read More »3 poems
High Spirits
The Pain
by Oliver Kleyer
After 3 long years, my back pain and I finally separated. It had been a troubled relationship, going back and forth, on and off. After I had announced the separation, my back pain refused to believe it, clinging to me and after I definitively told her it was over, she lingered there for some time. Finally, the news settled in and she had to accept it. My back pain finally moved out and now lives in Bremen.
I rejoiced for half a day. Then my leg started to hurt.
Read More »New Year’s Eve
by Emma Bowen
On January 13th, 2022, I typed two sentences in a note on my MacBook.
“One year from now, my life is going to be completely different than what I’ve always known. I don’t know if that’s comforting or the contrary.”
Sitting at the same laptop a year and a half later, I can confidently say this prophecy is entirely true and entirely false at the same time.
Read More »The Damsel in Real Distress
by Anam Tariq
In princess white, unfurled
to dance, the damsel,
seeing (oh!) so far as
the ambit of the newly earned spotlight.
Unaware of the vengeful darkness
where that light doesn’t fall.
So clustered by sooty impressions,
as with light dance the shadows,
she danced, celebrated, among
happy faces and masked faces,
supportive faces and delusive faces.
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