Issue 17

October 2024

Red Notebook

I want to tell my children they have nothing to fear
but I still remember
the signal for an intruder 
at my elementary school
Mrs. Crumby has lost her red notebook

I parse out tragic headlines
debating which information to relay
and which to withhold, preserving
some semblance of  innocence for a little
while longer

At night I sit on the edge of the bathtub 
while they brush their teeth,
catching the last dregs of the day’s musings 
and I let myself imagine 
the world as the gentle place they hope for it to be

Amy Grass

In a world where you can
be anything, be weak

Prompt from @NellyBryce

Feel frailty throbbing
through your fingers, 
touch your translucent 
skin, wink at the wrinkles
whispering around your smile. 

Lie down your limp limbs, 
cry into your cup of tea, 
treat yourself gently, 
like someone you love.

Say, this is hard, say, 
I am tired, say, thank you 
to a meal, warm cookies,
soft, folded hand-me-downs, 
and someone else’s strong hands 
buckling babies into car seats. 

Mercy can’t seep into your skin
if there’s no cracks in the armour. 

Rebecca Marie

What I hear when they say I’m too political 

uninterested / unbothered / 
unencumbered / uncomfortable / 
unsubscribe / unfollow / 
only / pretty / pictures / please 

Michelle Windsor

Little Pockets of Happiness 

Leaving the last few pages of a book until tomorrow so tomorrow will be good / when my daughter points me out to all of her friends as I drive up in the car line / the article about a woman from my church my husband sent me that makes me feel seen / the text that says “I miss you” / “how are you” / “want to go to lunch?” / the warmth of the morning sunrise on my face/ the crisp air outside when I get the mail / leaves changing their color / when the cat wants to snuggle / a good cry / a good therapy session / clarity / questions / wondering what other pockets of joy I’ll find today 

Taylor Epperson

It Takes a Village

When I see a flag with a four-letter word, 
the kind that well-meets the eyeballs
of school children on yellow buses 
bright with possibilities,
I curse.

And I wonder if this is the village it takes
to raise a bully. Because one rotten apple 
spoils a whole bunch 
of innocence. 

I pray forgiveness for my knee-jerk vulgarity, 
for my mouth that motors mutely
every time I drive by 
that house.

And because maybe there’s a soul in there,
I pray my neighbors pray 
the same prayer.

Megan Sciarrino

Women on Reddit Want to Know

Is it normal to feel less
the older you become? 
How do you juggle it all?  
How do you deal with 
a sexist manager? How
do you age gracefully? 
Career or friends? Kids
or no kids? Big house 
or small house? Am I 
the problem or is it her? 
What strapless bra is best 
and how do you know 
when to go to therapy? 

At the creek, the trees
are undressing themselves 
again. For one fleeting 
moment, I remember 
every person I pass
is as fragile as I am,
each of us dancing
on the knife-edge 
between fear and joy, 
dread and awe. 

There are moments
I want to stop every 
stranger and show 
them the sliver of blue 
between branches, 
moments when the whole 
world seems to take my face 
in its hands and say, 
Look. 

Krista Drechsel

I Daydream About Running Away

I’ll leave a note — love you, 
don’t miss me, I’ll be back in 3 weeks, 
6 weeks tops — and my phone.
I’ll take my passport
and cash out of the ATM.
I’ll abandon the minivan in the garage
and order an uber. 

Airport, please.
Where are you going? 
I’m not sure yet. The next flight.

I’m tired 

of squeezing each day like a wet towel
trying to extract every drop of productivity.

When the plane departs
I leave behind
	expectations
	efficiency 
	grief (in all the big and small ways)
	smiles
small talk
	holding it all together.

When I arrive, I
dry my hair in the breeze
and embrace the open air.
Wear bright pink lipstick for myself
and jangle bangles up to my elbow.
Bear my midriff (I’ve still got it!)
with a long skirt that flirts with the waves.

I sit down to dinner
say f*ck you to the calories.
I tear apart brioche with my teeth
and suck butter off shrimp caught from the sea.
I order double chocolate cake for dessert
and lick the plate clean.

The next morning
I sleep until the sun is high in the sky
order a full fat double shot latte
read a pile of books in bed.
I look in the mirror — 
at my fresh wrinkles and wiry gray
hair along my part —
and grin.

Welcome home.

Alyssa Silvester

Pendulum

Lorren Lemmons

This Could Be Our Revolution

 after Alice Walker

To strip the word ‘sorry’ 
from our tongues like the bark of a tree,
to hand it to the ones who deserve it most —
our sons, our daughters. To kindle a fire 
of our own failure and invite others to stand
in the glow of our regrets. 

To dance — naked-bodied, full-bodied
able-bodied, broken-bodied —
under the belly of the moon.
To live in this skin, astonished.

To spend an hour in the clouds
and not call it wasted.

To greet each feeling like a houseguest.
To invite them in for tea, let them jump
on the couch with their shoes on.

To smile at each person on the path.
To sing with every bird, to hold open 
doors and flirt with the elderly. 
To dig up the bones of delight
and drink moonshine with its skeleton. 

To dance with the pebble in our shoe.
To dance regardless.

Jillian Stacia