In imitation of “Litany of Failed Lines from Previous Poems” by Susan Nguyen We are hurricanes. I am all sighs and gasps when our lips collide. I forgive you for that time you said you didn’t want to get married but then professed me as your wife to your brother’s best friend. Y
Sometimes I wish I was Lilac flowers bundled together with twine White fluffy cardigan in a field of daisies Reading Jane Austen with the gold lined porcelain tea set beside me Or rather maybe sipping Earl Grey tea Studying Thoreau in a dimly lit coffee shop The smell of Vermont swirling around
The painting hanging on the wall was unwelcoming and venerable with its twirling winds above the seaside as the thunder rumbled in the oil. The storm mounted above the tropical scene makes me feel small, useless, a flea in a flea market, escaping the harsh crescendo of noise. The mulberr
By Lindsay Jankowski Cookbook for life Imagine life came with a cookbook, chock full of suggestions and answers to all of life’s problems. Unsure how to approach your mom about changing your career? Consult page 552 on “mother-daughter conflict” for a step-by-step list. Think you’re going
By Julia Voyt Pages and pages of 12 size Times New Roman are bled across the paper feverishly, introductions and statistics under methods and conclusions. Not eating food and my bicep is smaller this week I talk faster to my family and I write, write, write. The earth outside smells different and sw
By Emma Gail Compton I made the table I eat dinner at. The wood was cheap but sturdy. The stain I chose is a dark oaky red and makes the small round table seem more expensive than it was. One could find something similar at any store, but this table, my table, I made. I […]