Aug 24, 2017 | Jennifer Jussel, Poetry
I can see you teaching him to walk. How his little feet stuttered How his fingers—unbelievably tiny— reached eagerly for yours, with your nails that shined like Christmas. Maybe it is Christmas. Maybe you’re taking pictures and laughing and beaming at him as he tears...Aug 24, 2017 | Eliza Stopps, Poetry, Uncategorized
There’s a sound that takes me back to my childhood. I’ll save you the guessing, it’s not rolling, clapping thunder or tap-tap rain. It’s snapping ankles, up the stairs, in the dark. Is that the walls or someone walking? I notice it everywhere I...Aug 24, 2017 | Poetry, Sarah Kersey
When I was 10, we lived in a neighborhood that was always under construction My parents installed an alarm just in case anything were to ever go awry They set up the defenses that should have been indestructible But there was this one day that I ended my walk from the...Aug 24, 2017 | Audio, Michael Russell, Poetry
To A Survivor Audio File V. To a Survivor It wasn’t your fault. You hold guilt like a snowball in bare hands, the cold permeates through flesh into bone—stiffens. You sit outside, numb winter with winter. There is a beast hibernating inside you. Describe him:...Aug 24, 2017 | Darshita Jain, Poetry
Stats say, one in every three girls will have experienced rape or sexual abuse in their lives I am one of three daughters. For most of my life, I have been told I am a work of art My body a work of art a canvas, stretched far apart, White. Clean. Pristine. My body is...Aug 24, 2017 | Poetry, Starr Davis
(Ma ma) sleeps with a knife under her pillow (her dreams are (safer than mines) I grabbed a butter knife, put it inside my pillowcase dreamed a man climbed inside my window ...