Issue 26

I.New Moon
As day tumbles into night
I tumble to her
Searching for craters in those (perfect) pupils

II. Waxing Crescent
The movie projector flickers on her face like lightning
I consider how it would feel to take her hand
And roam the smooth crescents of her French manicure

III. First Quarter
She cuts the bundt cake in half with a butter knife
And gives me the bigger slice
Cheers, she smiles, tapping together their vanilla-frosted tops

IV. Waxing Gibbous
Her helmet glints as she unbuckles it
Reaching into her basket for a bouquet
Of red tulips

V.  Full Moon
Oh, come down to me,
Her lips are an ode to gravity
The tides find the grass and the ancient columns of
Aphrodite

VI. Waning Gibbous
I crunch my teeth into her microwave popcorn
Loud enough to almost avoid hearing that she is leaving for school this week
And didn’t I know that this was inevitable?

VII. Third Quarter
Six o’clock at the diner
I memorize the menu and refresh my lemonade until my mouth sours
Her red bike never shows

VIII. Waning Crescent
The vase leaves a watermark waning on the kitchen table
Tulip petals curling on the floor

 

 

 

Elena Yeatts-Lonske is currently studying English and Creative Writing at the University of Maryland. When not writing, she can be found painting, watching romantic comedies, acting, and cuddling with her dogs.

 

Taken out of context, I am almost a creature you could love.
I’ve been studying it and I’m surely very close, if you think about it
With some fine-tuning and a little adjustment, I could be really good,
or at least get most of the way there.

Taken out of context, you are almost a wound that could heal.
In the right lighting, with the right angles, you’re almost benign,
my darling tumor, my cancer and blight. If I just
thought about it the right way, I’m sure you could be
excised from my body and my flesh, carved out
like a bruise from a peach, scarified.

As it is, there’s not much either of us can do, except eat each other alive.
It’s the only way forward under the circumstances. I’ll savor it,
dear, being the blood staining your teeth, being the flesh under your nails.
Promise me you’ll take your time in unraveling me,
muscle from muscle, bone from bone, and I promise
not to take it for granted.

 

 

Amo O’Neil is a Chinese-American poet from the Bay Area with an interest in film. She’s an alum of Kenyon Young Writers and the Iowa Young Writers Workshop.

i have learned to
sew the edges of my lips together to
not make a sound

nothing could ever possibly
hurt more than your
disappointment

i am not
who
you would like me to be

and you watch
silently
as the frost settles over me
not realizing
how you have
turned me into the kind of person that
tells others to stop crying

 

 

 

J.M. Aveles (they/them) is a mixed-race writer and poet based in south-west Germany. Their work can be found in RIZEN ZINE.

he offered money
which made him kinder than most
his voice hollow and indistinct, owing,
as i believe, to artificial teeth
which is probably why he wanted mine
the doctor didn’t care
to give me anesthesia
he said pain wasn’t unusual for mine
or my race
i know you see the hollow man
with a hollow voice leading hollow people
on stolen land with us the stolen people
speaking with the master’s tongue
and slave’s teeth

 

Dilinna Ugochukwu (he/they) is a Black writer from Lancaster, CA. He loves to watch movies and eat jollof rice. You can find him on Instagram @dilinnna