Jill Barrie's "The Jail"

Somehow I must incorporate the jail,
incessant clanging of doors in corridors,

jangling of keys before doors open,
after they close.

Sam Beal's "creation myth #7"

a girl falls from the sky

‍ ‍ into the sea

John Beck's "Marking the Return of the Geese"

It lays
on the streets
like heavy
snow, slick
when something
is hidden
below, unseen
within its swirls.

Kelvin Bias' "Podcast Loop in the Elevator to the Afterlife"

Whispers begin in the mind’s eye,

the recess that never ends.

Lyrics unwind now. Have you begun?

Kate Champagne's "Mammogram"

Remove your shirt.
Calloused fingers
scoop my breast
into a plastic tray.
The top of the mold
descends, pinching skin.

Joseph Dante's "On the Playing Field"

Boys were sentinels of gravel and turf,
legs tearing up miles for sun-faded ribbons,
a howling species with little to say.

The girls wore their scars like I wore
my piebald birthmark: in secret, shared
only between turns at the jump rope.

Becky Kennedy's "In the Garden"

May: the deepest dark, as if
there were no end to distance.
Till dawn opens the garden,
small horizon of pines spread

Ella Flores' "The Divergent Boundary Rips Its Sutures"

follow the stretch mark & stitch / find the catheter poised
at the foot of my back / beneath the doldrums whalefalls

Gunilla Theander Kester's "The Secret of Night"

To feel the lower
slopes reaching up

while going down, down
toward the sea tasting salt

Susanna Lang's "Between Here and Somewhere Else"

They don’t need words for this carnival ride
high above a pier that was once a wartime base
for sailors—these three sisters who fled
the war in their own country, far from Chicago
where girls can swing up high, their bright scarves
floating behind them, mirrors like miniature suns
on their skirts and the lake wind wrapping
its arms around them for the brief time of their flight.

Julia Lisella’s “Waiting for a diagnosis”

my house is on fire, a slow burning
every book, every sheet of paper, every synthetic rug is a kindling

Michael Manerowski's "Make a Time of It"

You’re in the gray
neither light
nor dark
you’re alone
nothing’s demanded of you
and you don’t make
any demands
on anyone

Amelia Marten's "Everything You've Ever Brought Still Exists Somewhere on Earth"

I watch another otter dive and turn in a blue tiled pool, pulling up right before the corner,

the reel repeats silent in my hands, again.
This is what I can do now.

David Miller's "Desk"

My desk has a drawer with my late mother’s monogrammed calculator, a paper clip shaped like a dolphin, Things to Do heading a pad with nothing written.

Dhruvak Mirani's "A long time coming"

Steps on holy ground become lighter over time
as the Earth learns to expect you coming
The dirt loosens out of habit and each blade
of grass tilts to meet the angle of your feet

Paige Passantino's "Shift #746 at The Melting Pot"

Here is the secret: The cheese comes in plastic bags.

I will not call myself a chef just because I mix it up and turn a table on, all for a stranger’s birthday.

Laura Stanfill's "Mother at the Window"

The blueberry bushes flush red
for the winter, embarrassed bare.
She needs to leave them alone.
The tall raspberry canes stoop
to play hopscotch in rain puddles.
She needs to cut them short.
Maybe tomorrow. Maybe
the day after tomorrow.

Meg Taylor's "The First Light You Can't Name"

The night I woke without reason,

the walls held their breath.

Even the refrigerator stopped pretending to dream.

Lillo Way's "On the Verge"

Daybreak

just before it has broken.

‍ ‍ Not yet eye-piercing.

James K. Zimmerman

when water
‍ ‍ overflows
surface light
‍ ‍ refracts
my voice