Clicky

poetry

Roommate, by Cislyn Smith

the ghost screams twenty-three minutes before your alarmmakes the towels musty dampall the damn timeshe shatters your favorite mugand hides

Water, by Snousha Glaude

Ebbing, water swivels into the groves of mother earth’s spinecollidingcrackingcrashing buoys silently spectatewadingbouncingbobbingsinking i do not feel princess-like wearing this

The bone moon above Kōdaiji: A Quartet, by Ryu Ando

                                                              i. Who sees the black sakura in the courtyard,           the fruit that weeps on the branch, a tender flesh staining