in lost hoursdim roomsi silently moldmy handsin front ofbare bulbsproject distortedshadow puppetsagainstlonely wallsmovementslowineleganta mourning dovepierced throughthe breastby melancholy’ssharp sterling thornbeats its wingsraggedagainst ribbedcageof blueunable tolaunchfly free © 2018 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash

Shadow in the Frame: I Cast A Shadow – Christine E. Ray

The feeling of air as hiccuped rope-knots shake their fists. How many floors is the city’s tallest building? You are at the top a squeegee in your left hand, your penis sucking itself into its pelvic shell, shriveling your balls after it. The sincerity of Fall. Your lunch rises in your gorge, hotdogs/sauerkraut, you have […]

An Unquiet Mind: Thoughts of the Window Cleaner While Falling from the Tallest Building in Boston – Rachael Z. Ikins

Oh, how it happenssoft as lover’s touchthere you are againclutching cooling clothesas they wheel her limp body offyour name on her dry lipsan entreaty; help mewhen you cannotno act of kindness, sufficientfor suffering has its own brand of losswe all tumble togetherto a place of mysterywhere I may leave this small tiled building one daywithout […]

Quiet reminder of horror – Candice Louisa Daquin

He skims away from the school bus, skateboard under one arm, plaid pajama bottoms flap the news; another day closer to July and no shooter. A dragon blocks the book store entrance, her face’s skin rutted burnt roads. Faded kerchief around her head, stockings ladder her legs, lace-up black heels for stomping. She brandishes a […]

An Unquiet Mind: Curse of the Virgin- Rachael Z. Ikins

You countthe gray strandson my blonde headtenderly.Say: “Aging is deathromancingthe body.”Coming from you, dear?It’s almosta compliment. Photo by Fabien TWB on Unsplash

A Woman Past Her Prime – Allister Nelson

I do not believesambas don’t illuminate your day,that quartets remain in concert hallsor jazz ensembles don’t pursue youthrough the brazen grocery aislesdemanding you break 4/4 timewith artichoke maracas.How do word-pounded pagesnot scream in your ears?How do you not narrate every habitualnuance of every simplest task?Do you even know what colorAugust is? What shape 9tastes like? […]

An Unquiet Mind – Tamara Fricke