White Christmas, 2012

by Denise Bickford White Christmas, 2012 . The rings around Bing Crosby’s eyes are tired gray wreaths sun-bleached and nailed to our front door I watch White Christmas and fall asleep to another tired ornament – his voice . & – the continuous pulling of rosaries as my grandmother expires in the next snowy state delirious and full of hail …

Seven

by Sarah Satterlee Seven Like the cinematic undead she turns, fists white and closed; two night blossoms, each narrowed eye an animal mouth. The first time I saw her she was slick and limp a blue stone pulled from an ocean, fluorescent light caught in her mineral skin, dead heavy in their gloved hands until she howled; a wild wolf. …

Salt Water

by Shereen Asha Murugayah Salt Water The others are a head taller but it’s the swim cap that’s making my baby hairs scream. The whistle shrieks and I crash through the water, cheers skimming the surface. My goggles start to fill up, salt water stinging my eyes. I kick to stay afloat, trying to empty them. Somebody won, I’ve forgotten …

Flatting

by Shereen Asha Murugayah Flatting I’m clearing dishes when I see it. A communal mug, white and sturdy, a dried teabag and a yellow pubic hair in it. He is the only blond here. I run the tap then decide to throw it out instead. We kissed once, a month ago, he’s writing up his thesis in the library now. …

Floating

by Shereen Asha Murugayah Floating To slice this smoothest of jellies like the soft sword you are, you first learn to float, the true conscious uncoupling: Your mind screaming that you’re drowning, your body knowing you will rise and Physics in the corner buffing her nails like Dude, seriously? – – – – – Born and bred in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, …

Berries bleed into the ridges of our intentions: dripping from palms and empty psalms

by Nikkin Rader Berries bleed into the ridges of our intentions: dripping from palms and empty psalms Babylon was falling to the ground where the loss goes unfound beneath the dirt beds Take me down to the railroad town The butterflies you once gave me now dead in the pit of my stomach their carcasses still on the ground fluttering …

when you steal blossoms that refuse to fruit: unbloom stricken out

by Nikkin Rader when you steal blossoms that refuse to fruit: unbloom stricken out Beached nonbody shrivel mountain hearts : keep lips locked to taste each other’s memories. Would you hawk her bruised fruit? The bulbous cheeks, sour lips spilling with ephemeral wonder. Graze her banana hip til you peel flesh. Squeeze her so all life dissipates, juices spilt on …