by Sophia Pandeya
Fishmoths silver only
after the third moulting
leave exuvia like love notes
hiding in forgotten pages
sixty six moults in a lifetime
so many self shells simply
imprints of half eaten memories
ghosts of glue, paper, photos
sugar, hair and dandruff rising
in husks of dreams as you open
my book, stiff as a hardened
scab an ungainly integument
trying to keep its secrets
from your prying hands
|THE IF IT HAPPENS AT ALL, IT HAPPENS AS A GIFT
by Jasmine Dreame Wagner
To know how hard it is to barter
Chickens for eggs when the hens won't lay.
To assume the pear is firm enough
To be handled and shipped,
After so many days, it decays, he says.
Have you eaten? The waitress asks.
Yes, some eggplant. A cup of coffee.
Lettuce, baloney and a slab
Of mayo, the waitress hands him
A hoagie. He eats outside
On the stairs, his back to nobody.
A skateboarder plies his ankles
Again and again. I hold
A good amount of faith
In this sandwich, he says.
I hold a good amount of
Hope that nothing will
I chipped a tooth last winter.
I chipped a tooth on soup.
And You Shall Love by Marlene Burns
|THE CRAWLING TOWARD THE ANSWER
by Peycho Kanev
We are like
blooming beneath the sky,
sitting upon the graves with terrible force.
They crush us,
pick us up,
carve some words on our hardened bodies.
My tiny black, colorful, heavy brothers,
I love you all