by Lana Bella
Love is a canvas with salt stains / on the wrist, hard wind nursed in / serpentine surfs, tuft of herons / turned white knitting rain to sails.
by Brandon O’Brien
you think I is the monster? / nah—I is just a funeral procession / with canine teeth.
by Tlotlo Tsamaase
I recall lying next to my sister, saying, / “Those with machine lungs don’t know how to exhale love. / Why do they come here to us?”
by M. Darusha Wehm
separating what is from what could be / I’d erase all the borders / I would melt the walls / edit history for you / if I could change time