Let the Water in

By Vanessa Jae in Issue Six, September 2022

The earth tears at her concrete visage
until she can breathe through the cracks.

Listen to the viscous vows of retaliation
she presses through her stuffed throats:

send down the rain is no song when the belly goes to war

By the_people in Issue Six, September 2022

zephyr sings a lullaby into my body
that she may light my eyes and dulcify my tongue

don't listen to her—
⁠the aphorism of my stomach roared in hurt
and reluctantly, i was submerged in its words:

Factory Reset

By RC deWinter in Issue Six, September 2022

Those who know tell us it will rain for days
as the west burns in the unrelieved heat of the sun –
all of this beyond our control thanks to the willingness
of a handful to profit by whatever means possible.

Two Beaches

By Devin Miller in Issue Six, September 2022

I want to show you the beach
that has been with me since I was in utero.
Now I carry it inside me in my turn:
the rocks, the barnacles with their
fronds and sharp edges,


By Annika Barranti Klein in Issue Six, September 2022

I was thinking today of a
world without traffic lights
where pushing the button
on the dashboard for recirculated air

Blood, Roses, Song

By Vanessa Fogg in Issue Five, July 2022

Roses without thorns, blooming and wet with dew.
A garden of sweetness
A song without bitterness
A bird pouring out its heart at dawn
Song pure and weightless in the trembling air.

We Greet the Solstice

By Avra Margariti in Issue Five, July 2022

Inside extant skulls of extinct giants
We’ve made our homes for many a summer
Solstice. Wildflower wreaths, crowns, garlands
Ornament the colorlessness of bone,
Our way of giving thanks to the earth
For not having annihilated our kind just yet.

The Artemis Accords*

By Lynne Sargent in Issue Five, July 2022

Like old kings come together
in agreement of a contest
so long as the princess-prize
goes home with one of them.

Beneath the Flames

By Oyeleye Mahmoodah Temitope in Issue Five, July 2022

The rain basks in humid slumber, whilst grandma’s roses wilt—
Hearth of earth wallows in defeat
and I stay lost and bare⁠—


By Alexander Etheridge in Issue Five, July 2022

Hell-storm overtaking the hills,
the blistering winds come forever now.