He is everything I remember
and everything I had once tried to forget
rumbling engine and tires on the wet street.
I am shoes in the grass, kicking leaves
walking through cold drizzle and gasping wind, dark sky on a moonless night.

He is the blue pickup truck with the window down
his face lit by a cigarette drag,
something I’ve seen a thousand times before
handsome face warmed by the orange glow.
I settle into my spot beside him as stagnant cigarette film settles on me
silently clinging to my clothes and swirling into my hair.

Our fingers brush as he hands me that glass pipe
smoke wisps twirl out of our lips and mingle together
rushing out of the doors into the night sky as we walk together under it,
now we’re inside and he is the touch I’ve been anticipating.

The last thing I see is brown eyes and I feel
his kiss bristling my face, consuming me like we will never experience this again.
He is blonde hair and a brown beard, he is strong, he is tall. He is everything I wanted.

I am satisfied, carefree, if only for a moment.
Studying the lines of his face, how they have changed, the startling
way he is his grandfather’s face, showing through those dark eyes.
When he leaves, he is a kiss that dissipates
with the sound of the engine turning down the block.

I am alone. The mirror displays a flushed, smiling face
with tones of pink and peach, silently studying the details.
I see my mother and grandmother in my own reflection
I see their age making way down my skin.
Marbled green eyes, dark in color,
mine yellow flecked.
my mother’s mixed aqua.
my grandmother’s deep green.

My pulse rushes with the realization that it goes so fast
My eyes fill with tears as I imagine looking into the eyes my own children and theirs
I picture those deep green tones reminding me of generations past
I breathe in realizing what I’ve seen and what I feel I need.
I am the details and complexity of life, one of many heirs.                                           {360 words}

Skyscrapers jut towards the heavens
middle fingers to mother nature
or sun-bleached white ribs of some poor beast
who tangoed with a Toyota
and lost.

The stench that wafts through the streets could easily strip paint
but the locals don’t seem to mind.
meandering through their mundane Mondays
like maggots in goose step
feeding upon the entrails of the mangled carcass.

Soon, their bellies full, gorged on wealth forged from blood, sweat and tears
of the less fortunate, they will pupate.
and in a frenzy of greed, gluttony and lust, they will burst
from their cocoons, and ****, eat, and relish in their wealth until they die.

Thus is the cycle of the city.
a cancerous growth, a festering boil, an affront in the eyes of the lord.
this grey-on-grey urban tragedy taints the land and traps us all.
no one ever really escapes.

as their corpses lie in rot and ruin amongst the filth and viscera,
the newest generation of eggs begin to hatch,
and the cycle begins anew.

It was a bit strange. At first I told myself it was a dream. But as it progressed, I couldn't help but think different. It felt so real and my senses seemed magnified. Being the curious cat I am, exploring didn't sound like a bad idea. But then it was sounds that started to change everything. Most of them were clear voices, others mere whispers. Then rustling in the bushes and crackling leaves. I tried to see where the noise was coming from, but the fog was too thick and heavy. It almost felt like gravity had a helping hand. A note was quickly made to myself after catching a glimpse of the ground. Honestly, it was the only reminder to me this was just a dream. As the voices drew closer though, the strange dream shape shifted to an intense nightmare. Clouds swirled in circles, trees bent over backwards, whirlwinds began raking up leaves into barriers around me. And then...It stopped. Everything just stopped. That scared me the most though.My brain argued back and forth with my legs until something else made a decision. I still can't describe it but something was there. I felt it getting ready to strike like a cobra. No feeling in my body could have predicted what happened next..I was pulled to the ground by my leg landing on my back, frantically searching for the culprit, thrashing my arms around for a tree, a bush, roots. Anything to keep me grounded. My failed attempts were made obvious when, still by my leg, I was lifted into the air. And that moment, when in a vortex of leaves, sticks, animal carcasses, I caught a glimpse of the ground again. Being upside down, I was looking up at the still distorted ground. But looking down at the sky, everything was clear...focused. So I relaxed, and let myself fall into it, and woke up. Inspired.

Leah Rost

The heat of those moments spent in passion reveal my true emotion
as the wispy little hairs of your skin raise to my touch;
flushed lips part before gently meeting mine and radiating heat
that flows through my body and thaws the cold hands you always complain about,
every second new sensations bombard the grey matter in my head confusing and pleasing the neurons that fire in pace with my breath
until I’ve closed my eyes and let myself drift from under your touch
because your eyes are blue and I open mine wishing to see his coffee brown irises searching my body for every ounce of emotion I wouldn’t dare speak out loud and
I’m begging to stop thinking of him when I’m with you but my memory refuses to block out the nights I spent warm under his thick, strong arms and domineering hands.