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

white ho...

March 14, 2018

we were a polaroid that summer—

sun drunk smiles blurring the

corners of the half-finished

three-by-three mural.

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...

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ISSN 2470-3834 (online)

ISSN 2470-7775 (print)