M O T H E R By Lindsay Hayes We gardened in the heat of the afternoon, pulling up weeds, while the sun scored our backs. Birds chirped tender songs and the fragrance of mulch permeated the air. Beads of sweat clustered on my forehead, and calluses formed on my fingers from shoveling. There was [&hel
Guadalajara; el infierno (Karla Jacinto was 13 years old when she was abducted and became one of the four million girls who are sex trafficked every year.) By Gabriela Rose Gold bracelets clank against her wrist and mine. Los ojos of various shades of hazel stand out in the darkness. Wheels burn the
The Dawn is Ours, Spring 2021, Meghan Bauman, Graphite
Static By Grace Kennedy I The numbness started after her silhouette faded away, went from trading sly smiles and dancing as fairies in secret gardens and on dimly lit sidewalks to the longest ache I’ve ever felt. I keep the old her in creased handwritten letters, in tubes of rose lipstick, in pale
Metamorphosis, Spring 2021, Sarah Sanders, Mixed Media
