To Stop the Rain By Ana Alonso To stop the rain, You open an umbrella. Stand between the storm on a dry patch of pavement. Rub the handle of the umbrella between sandpaper fingertips. Look outward, at the falling water as it envelops everything around you. Try not to let the outside…
Dear Reader/Dear Writer by Miranda Hodges
Storefront by Jordan Muscal
it's not just milk by Sean Edwards
Oceanic Operetta by Andrew Hernandez
Aileen Zhang
Two Poems by Jordan Muscal Darling I Want My Gay Rights Now: A Cento Loving anybody and being loved by anybody is a tremendous danger, a tremendous responsibility. I remember when someone threw a Molotov cocktail I thought, didn’t Sappho say her guts clutched up like this? It is difficult to…
A Girl Called Lust By Rhea Brennan she was born in the image of her mother hair dyed with the smoke of a house fire and the sewn lips of a handmaid she walked for the first time and stumbled only once falling at the feet of a well-respected man he told her…
Writing About Writing By Zeke Opot The kid opened his mouth and I sighed A sea of words would suffocate my ears soon enough The line above is ridiculous. Overly complicated to convey a simple message It’s too unsatisfactory to read poems like this Look at how long line one was Versus line two…
Two by Oliver Hoffman My Biggest Flaw Is That I Care Too Much PETA would take this case to court much later On the table were the shoulders and paws Dr. Taub had dislocated and asked the monkeys to find again. If they weren’t crippled, how could we have known that the…
Casino: 100 Word Story By Paloma Santamarina They all drive up in different moods, different cars, different backstories, but the same idea in their brains. They give me their car keys, they pop their collars, and walk inside, dreaming of green and a metallic smell that opens the door to anything they’ve ever dreamed…
bathtub inferno: an excerpt By Marz Lazar Mother tells me it’s time for a bath. I am drowsily staring amongst the pages of equations my teacher assigned me. I find myself ghost-walking down the stairs, through the hall, reaching the back door to follow along the path to the bathhouse. Step after step, my calloused…
Developing Boll By Aimeé-Anali San Miguel 12 hour days, 12 cents per pound, 12 people in the house 12 is the lucky number If only he had 12 fingers To accompany his 12 callouses; To aid in the 12 steps of picking, pricking, and presenting the fluff. Which is anything but soft. Born…
Letters About Letters: A Reversal Poem By Bella Ramirez From Writer, When we were little. not creased. Letters were perfect, not kept. Letters were sent, envelope. Sealed in an be perfectly addressed. Letters had to in the corner. Name and date Letters were long. Up to down. Beginning left to right.…
Love, Echo By Abby Walmer Beloved, I have come to understand words, the way they taste on an untouched tongue. The way they bend, like a bow beneath skilled hands. How to hoard them, hold them, kiss the copper shine off their newness. How to eat them, savoring each thick-shelled thought and sucking the…
Watch Me By Colby Beserra I will spend my whole life trying to figure me out Staring in the mirror, trying out different poses Spotting the little details; my reason for Existing is a grocery run with no list of items, and the aisles are disorganized and cluttered someone to tell me…
The Last Sampaguita in the Philippine Islands By Isobelle Lorien Romero What can be so freighting yet beautiful than a storm? What is a silent scream rather than the sound of thunder? Pittering against the window of a car in the silent bubble of a thousand cries. An off season of rain, the abrupt…
I’m From By Aidan Takeda I’m from “you can do better” or “that’s not good enough”, and the dog barks over top of it all. I’m from mother’s “let’s be healthy” meals, to my fathers fried rice, and the dog calmly gnawing on his bone. I’m from pity quarrels, to vicious…
Two by Nola Nelson Sixteen Rebekah is sixteen, she has outgrown playdates and baby teeth but has ingrown hang nails and that lightheaded feeling you get right in between tipsy and drunk. She wears gold hoops and a belt bag and she feels incredibly old. It is the kind of old that is a…
September Peach By Isobel Stevenson I bite into September like a ripe peach when really I still crave July July was a haunting; Falling onto your shoulder, expecting to land and hitting the floor instead Maybe in December I’ll be able to write beautifully about it all I’ll talk about the cracked…
Two poems by Eva Rami Mama & Me When Mother Earth crafted me From the damp mud lining the Ganges River, it was My Mama who picked me from the delta, And cradled me to her stomach. She dressed me in skirts, woven of fibers from the clouds, And cradled my head in…
Two by Safia Chilakapti Heroine Addict I met you in the spring, gathering brisk air between my fingers like thread tied in thick knots. I always came back to this, to the softness of the lake and the water lapping at the sides of the dock. The moment, the habit, it smelled…
Self-Portrait Inside Those Two Red Fish Eyes by Zeil Saldivar They think that we can’t see With a filter— over these eyes. But we prefer to say That we just have open minds. Everyone can’t seem to believe That there is more than just— blue In the vast open sea. As our souls resemble the…