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Month: July 2020
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Chrysalis By Matt Maraynes
Caterpillar sleeps,wakes up a butterfly. New look, new senses, new reality, no less true. Everything remains, andeverything is changed. Perhaps the butterfly wonders, too, what it feels like each dayto sit up and yawn,and wake up as you. Matt is a writer and filmmaker from New York. His favorite plants are African Violets, his favorite shark…
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Songs for Pretty Girls By Nic Nichols
In each home, each city, and each ending, she had a post. But now that she’d settled in the Deep South, the nights had heart and soul. Though the thick glass windows were to be always shut and locked, the midnight hum carried through. She sometimes wondered if the music…
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The Plant You Brought Me
Sometimes, I ask myself how could you trust me to care, even for a plant.Maybe, you didn’t know. Things I love and things I hate have the same ending; they die.I used to feel everything at the same time,but now I wake up every morning,walk by the plant you brought…
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Dried Out Baby By Will Musgrove
Baby skinned the coyote’s mate. Good riddance, he thought as he tossed the bloody gray pelt onto the dry brush. A dozen feet away, his fellow brewers—out of necessity—waited for him around a fire, where they sampled each other’s moonshine recipes and their stomachs rumbled like the missing thunder. Baby, who…
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Chronic illness and art
Much of my artwork for school has been an exploration of my experience with hospitalization and chronic illness, a large part of my life. One of my biggest inspirations for this is Frida Kahlo, who was famous for her pieces depicting the lifelong pain after an accident left her disabled.…
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A Short, Unreceived, Love Letter
My mother always knows when I’m in love. Whenever she sees that I’m slowly drowning in the waves of infatuation, she stops talking, letting me decide whether I want to sink or swim. This time, I choose to sink because you’re too beautiful, I must get lost. Others can tell…
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My Father’s Jamun Tree By Sufia Khatoon
My gardener exerts that I uprootmy father’s jamun* tree.It has failed to yield fruits this year—It has failed to conform. My father finds it hardto feel anything at all. I should part with it—without the promise ofjamuni* flowers.Without a purposeit is futile to love it. In the heated afternoonI hold…
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What We Do To Nature By Sukanya Basu Mallik
Not sure if it is the Corona,Or if it is my copious poetic vision,But from where I observe,The colour of the sky has altered.The water of the creeks have relinquished their crystal clear shine.The glow of the magnificent moon has faded.And now, the sun has a silhouette. There’s a shadow…
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Black Cherries By Addi Ajmani
How many more will bleeduntil we’ve had enough?How many more will we bruiseand leave at the bottom of the barrel?Dark night.Dark life.There’s a chill this summer night,raging fumes from fiery thoughtsturned to actions.Sirens echo from every direction.Jagged scatterings of glass mimica yellow brick road leading toa revolution.Our revolution.As the city…