La madrague By: Vy-Anh Nguyen
My mother is yawning in her sleep. Eyelids heavy, with Heaven’s gates. Maybe, he’d let her sleep longer. She was safer within these walls. Smooth his own wrinkles, Before waking
Category: poetry
Brooklyn Blues By: Abby Wolpert
How peculiar,the sound of your own name,when weeks have passedsince it was last spoken. Renamed by the city:ma’ammamibitchIt’s a miracle I did not forget it.
My City By: Elliot Martin
Illustrated By: Amina Coleman-Davis The concrete jungle speaks. I hear its voice “Give me liberty or give me death!” It echoes. God speaks in this city. The city will not
HUNGRY GIRLS By: Nadia Leiby
We are the hungry girls. Greasy hair and soft lips, we pore over our vices like rats in a dumpster tones no longer hushed as we wail our deepest fears
TO THE FIRST PERSON WHO TOOK CARE OF MY BODY By: Nadia Leiby
I am bathing in the taste of yesterday’s you, Slivers of ourselves tucked between my sheets You, mumbling beautiful nonsense, face pressed against my breast, the sirens of Richmond outside
Continue reading…TO THE FIRST PERSON WHO TOOK CARE OF MY BODY By: Nadia Leiby