I’m Secretly a Monster But Don’t Tell Anyone

by Erin Mullens

I fling back my elegant neck, sipping flowery rosé

As the jewel encrusted birds flutter about the glamour

Resting precariously on the edge of my shoulder.

Every word is a golden lie, a bit of thread I twist

Hard, to weave together a beautiful tapestry.

If I just look like a rainbow on a green hill

They won’t see the demons fighting in the palm of my hand.

Under the table, my legs shake and my ankle bounces

I am terrified that someone will see through my illusion.

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Mussel

by Christian Ward

Every shell is dipped in night. 

Place an ear against the ceramic

to eavesdrop on fox squabbles, 

crows watching rubbish bags

left split open like unfinished 

operations, brambles unfurling 

their fruit. Humans, extras 

with no dialogue. Open every 

shell to reveal day – the glazed 

pottery, a perfect sky. Of course, 

there’s the meat: An orange muscle 

on a ready-made plate. Quiet, 

contemplative. I threw up the sea 

the first time I tried it. Didn’t know I was chewing its prayer. 

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