Issue 5 — August 2022

  • Merita Sweet Sixteen (a pantoum)

    the night before, our nameless teenage desire

    in the morning, we discovered the ants

    of sweet things not yet spoiled, on the cusp of brave

    a feedback loop we didn’t know to call desire

    in the morning, we discovered the ants

    girls sticky sweet, we two were fifteen and sixteen

    a feedback loop we didn’t know to call desire

    the language of invitation, back to back, was an echo

    girls sticky sweet, we two were fifteen and sixteen

    bagged powdered-sugar doughnuts kept waiting, bed-side

    the language of invitation, back to back, was an echo

    gazing at the napes of necks, hands warming

    bagged powdered-sugar doughnuts kept waiting, bed-side

    of sweet things not yet spoiled, on the cusp of brave

    gazing at the napes of necks, hands warming

    the night before, our nameless teenage desire

    The Garden Grows

    We played the game from bell to bell, a

    competition for fruit, rules chameleonic

    with plucky arms thrusted out, we

    clenched each other by the wrist, held

    firm and upright like asking took turns

    as the gardener: first the planting of

    seeds, covering the soil of each forearm plot

    with sweet petting, that is, until the weather

    came: the

    rain, thunder, lightning

    a punishment, a storm of hands, nails ragged

    from caring little about what bodies looked like,

    just how much more time we had outside, our

    scratching and strumming against the land of others

    rain, thunder, lightning a dizzy

    song of grazed slapping, rain a wrapt tapping, then

    twisting where the lightning touched

    down, the garden was a lesson in enduring

    pain and controlling it, we were growing nothing

    much, just early bruises, skin a canvas for

    playground ritual, the awe of watching

    welts form and recede, we vied for

    touch and our forearms shone in plum where

    the storm touched down

    rain, thunder, lightning

    from where the crops emerged, we read

    them like tea leaves our bounty grown

    of flesh, our recess secrets healed

    themselves before school let out

GOOD NIGHT MY LOVE by Sophie Marlow

  • crumbs    

    patterned saltwater smears lapse on malachite pennies 

    patina copper

    if I swallow them will the acid polish the zinc down to the kalamata pit

    what about pistachio shells and pomegranate rinds and other less

    than halves that get tossed away

    nickels settle at the bottom now with dud pearls and

    compliments from men before they know how serious I am

    before they know that I can convince myself of anything.

    apricot stones and generation one technology and packing peanuts no one

    is eating these things except for me

    I’m so hungry

    I use capsule pipelines as straws and I inhale the checks too

    and the lollipop wrappers or whatever the bank throws

    in the bowl snapping around the lettuce hem glass to join tea stems

    and the pillows after I’ve already yelled into them

    they ask why do you think you’re attracting these kinds of guys

    they think I understand myself and my appetite they suck on the claws

    and only get out of it meat but aren’t curious about the chitin

    I don’t know how it feels to not feel bad for the scraps. 

    I don’t know what the aphasia patient from the educational video left out

    or subbed in when he signed off with I appreciate it and I hope the world lasts for you

    but what I took from it to eat later was the wince and the wave

    of his hand when he knew that wasn’t what he meant.

    But what a line.

    Last night I 

    cried so hard I was coughing up dead parts of

    my heart and other organs

    pushing them out with muscles from the base of my belly

    screaming out something the size of a baby

    When it happened, I wasn’t sure if it was labor or an exorcism. 

    Aren’t they just as traumatic. 

    I did this on the first day of spring.

    I did this while a man carried his dog across the crosswalk and then waited

    to put him down until he reached the grass.

    I let my throbbing body sit with itself just this once, knees tucked

    under my chin from the parked car, paving over mental terrain, remembering how

    capable we are of breaking, of becoming

    messy again and still finding ourselves hungry

    for sunlight, for what we’ve grown ourselves.

Róisín Nolan Zodiac

  • whenever someone asks if this is your first time

    you say no

    hold your head up high as you stumble through like a newborn fawn

    rather than admit to inexperience

    you live your entire 15th year as if it's already years behind you

    you start smoking cigarettes because prettier, skinnier girls on the internet say they kill the appetite

    & you want to be skinny & pretty & something altogether more graceful & refined than what you are

    you learn that the trick is to never inhale the putrid smoke

    just hold it in your mouth and blow

    you try so hard to make the older boys laugh

    & when they do

    you feel red all over

    all your organs plummet

    down down down

    & there's no ground in sight

    you want him to look at you

    until he does

    & then you want to float away from this body that's ceased being your own

    you are often jealous of & angry at your friend who seems to know so much more

    who can stand to be looked at without wanting to run

    you can't seem to realise that she feels the same gnawing pit in her stomach

    you don't yet realise that the best part

    is the part when it's just the two of you

    & you can speak only in giggles

    you are so bored with being a growing, unfinished thing

    i wish you'd known it was the best part

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