Introduction

By Marley Reedy

a.
compared to eternity
the movie seems
short and blunt
beginning and ending
unlike time in
a blue blue blue
infinite room
miles above America.

next to an old couple
a man (aisle seat) and woman (middle)
shes watching spencer
I (window) have lost track of the movie writing this
I wonder what the director is like in person
and what the woman might think of the french
and what home means to her
and what her husband is watching.

the captain calls
‍ ‍ if you look to the left
you may watch the horizon burn
crimson orange and pale pink

b.
the woman asks me for the time
asks me to shine a light
on her thin wrist

the change in longitude throws me
against the stark black dome
millions of miles blur pinholes of

stars scattered by an upturned bowl
poured over rows and rows of floating

people in white noise

against the stark black dome
millions of miles blur pinholes of

stars scattered by an upturned bowl
poured over rows and rows of floating

people in white noise
and hushed tones

I can’t be certain
I can’t stop peering out the window at the endless starry sky

her watch, like the small window
counts time against a
box of timeless

Passengers,
to the left,
morning breaking,
soft blue and orange-yellow

IT’S NOT YOU, IT’S THEM

By Betsy Allen

‍ ‍1.

my heart will always ache for you because
‍ ‍because loving you felt like loving me but
but loving him feels like choosing me and—
‍ ‍and i have never chosen me.
and he makes me feel special
‍ ‍special the way you made me feel special but
‍ ‍in the real way
‍ ‍in the right this second way
‍ ‍in the it’s me he loves and not the idea of me way
‍ ‍in the getting to know me love me way
‍ ‍and not in the knowing me without knowing me love me way

‍ ‍2.

you talked of twin flames and i think i get it now
because twins–twins
are souls separated and i needed you to love me because you were me
but i don’t need him i want him

‍ ‍3.

needing someone is like losing air slowly—
quiet and then loud all at once
and i’m so tired of noise.
needing you was like eating
and you know how i hate eating—
needing you is not the same as wanting is not the same as choosing is not the same as loving is not the
same as
‍ ‍i’m so tired now

‍ ‍4.

sleeping is like dreaming is like needing is like living
i am sleeping now
and it is so so sweet.

mom told dad to invite him to dinner
make chicken cutlets, Tonkatsu for the American Boy
the song on the radio tells me to just be.

dad plays guitar the way i majored in psychology—
a little, not really, but enough to hand out criticisms
he is here with stubborn fingers reaching out to the boy he just cooked for.

mom, dad, and sister think he’s like honey
sweet, so sweet, with a sunny disposition, an appealing aftertaste
his friends are calling him asian-fucker and i remember how much i hate honey.

‍ ‍5.

losing you felt like losing me and
and i should never have to lose me
and loving you felt like needing you
and needing is not the same as choosing is not the same as loving
but
at
least
your
friends
didn’t
tokenize
me—

Love’s Lucky Ones?

By Emily Clairmont

Part One
We meet eyes and quickly look away,
We look back again.
Red stains ivory then recedes,
Only to appear minutes later.
This dance continues for weeks.

A smile lights my face,
A hope fills my chest.
In deep blue,
A matching reflection is seen.

Blonde glimmers like a sun,
A halo surrounds my warmth.

Part Two
I dance round the room,
Make faces,
Talk in high voices at random times.

I feel silly,
Until laughter fills my ears.
A dazzling smile,
A reward worth more than any price.

Part Three
Yelling is heard,
Underneath it cracking that only my ears hear.
Arms are swung wildly,
Faces turn red.

Hours are spent apart in the same house.
You’re felt,
But can’t be seen.

Apologies are said,
Hugs given.
This becomes a daily routine.

Part Four
A red string that connects us,
I can feel it stretching.
It feels taught,
Like any movement will break it.

Anxiety fills me,
Cold water is in my lungs.
All movement is suspended,
Words are my saving grace.

Over time the string loosens.
But for how long?

Part Five
If your chosen loves you back,
You are considered one of the lucky few.
We met,
Fell in love,
Broke each other’s hearts again and again.

In the end we have many paths leading to our present.
The future looks uncertain,
But in my heart I ask,
Can we be one of the lucky ones?

I Will Stay With You

By Abby Rogers

My hands
Your heart

Our short sweet
Time is ticking

Your hands
My heart

Our love
Forever sticking

When you no longer
Hear the sound
Of my voice in your ears
Still ringing

You’ll know that my hand
Is on your heart
And for you
I’ll forever be singing