& the truth is, I could have
done it. Could have ripped
the animal from my jaw,
could have bruised the bone
of this body until it gave way.
But some things don’t spark
right & I know my name now.
Twelve sinners poured over
for the saint we all knew couldn’t
be, but we’re still here. The whole
time we choked quiet like a learned
thing & thought how when the body
folds out what it cannot open,
we too can shape a crease.
Mary Sims is a 19-year-old poet and writer published in The Poetry Annals, Kingdoms of the Wild, Mooky Chick, Anatolios Magazine, Moonchild Magazine, and more. She is currently working on her BA in English, and spends her days reading, collecting books, and exploring antique shops.
Find her on Twitter: @rhymesofblue
Feature Image by Annie Spratt on Unsplash
On a boat from Langkawi to Penang
I sat next to a woman who smiled easily,
she read a novel that was “borderline-erotic”
investigating this other life with curiosity,
another mind’s fantasy.
She was exquisite and breathing
lost in the labyrinth of movement –
chasing the sublime.
I drank in her stories –
she spoke of mediocre men
who rubbed against her like hungry cats.
Interpreting her desire in shallow ways,
disclosing their sexual routines,
interrupted often by my hiccupping laugh.
She spoke of the bee stings and brutality
that she had encountered as a child.
Like it was as simple as a sneeze,
she spoke to a stranger honestly.
Nisha Bhakoo is a British poet and editor, living in Berlin. She is currently working on a PhD on the uncanny in contemporary poetry at Humboldt University. Her first poetry collection, You found a beating heart, was published by The Onslaught Press in 2016. Her second poetry collection, Black & White Dream, was published in 2018 by Broken Sleep Books.
He’s breathing so I can’t.
I hate him for being.
He takes a pretty girl, I try not to watch.
He excels and I cannot move.
Aging on my couch. My heart is skipping beats again.
Nothing bad ever happens to the perfect ones, like him.
Why not just once? Everything is so damn uneven.
I am still being punished.
My heart is a dirt basement; sometimes I feel nothing.
And here he is again, to make my day even worse.
Sharon Ava Ezekiel is a registered nurse, attorney and native Ohioan. She has performed with a dance ensemble and loves all four-legged creatures. Her work, “The Storm Cellar”, was published in Flash Fiction Magazine.