by Marla Smith
grizzly between his bedsheets
he wakes with one simple contemplation
“who is a man like me?”
because calloused hands do not make a man.
what do you think?
“if you come from muck, you must be so.”
but oh how wrong he is.
he is like a thousand diamonds to me.
By Dan Lu No worry about money. No need for ask. Mama ai ni Mama say do your homework before bed, Mama tuck you in at night, Mama cross an ocean for you the salt is in your blood feel the sting in your flesh the fracture in your bones ...
By Peyton Bender Grandma is small like me. Nestled into her faded flowered sheets, huddled into a pillow-fort coffin, her wrinkled eyelids blanket her eyes; her lips do not greet me with a smile today. She breathes like my cabbage patch doll—so subtly ...
By Hannah L. Nelson I hate that change means we lose that piece of what used to be. Understandably not entirely, ...