March 16, 2018
they were playmates, first.
he negotiated with apple blossoms
and she stomped in puddles with yellow boots
and made friends with the worms
wriggling into chinks in mud walls.
on her twenty-fifth birthday he gave he...
March 15, 2018
The wind snapped the Sugar Maple in two the morning I left,
silencing branches that scratched
my bedroom window for three years, quartered close.
The first day, I wrote my name in the closet and called the place
home, the word sticky on my tongue. It was the second
March 14, 2018
we were a polaroid that summer—
sun drunk smiles blurring the
corners of the half-finished
you said you loved me under
cross-stitched stars and the tick
of fireflies, tongue curled
around the words like the first
peach of summer.
i believed you in the curv...
ISSN 2470-3834 (online)
ISSN 2470-7775 (print)