Kick in the Head

by Mack Muldofsky
I have always had a bittersweet relationship with sports. Physically, I’m slow, I’m nearsighted, and I have no stamina. But sports is about more than the body. It is also about the mind. My mind was also bad at sports.

Poetry Collection

by Nora Claire Miller
there is a thing
inside of this thing.
a sparrow swelling
beneath my air conditioner.
brick seizure spelled out in dull light,
the construction of a chord.

Love Stories

by Rachel Berger

Ten minutes
after my first kiss,
All I want
is to stay on this train

Don’t Fly Away, Paloma

by Sophie McNulty
I glance at my room from my bed and receive an indistinct image, as I rest here contemplating the complications I must confront. My life once was simple; lacking crisis and degeneracy, however in the past few weeks these qualities I had assumed a reality disappeared abruptly. I sigh, bury my head into my pillow and weep silently.

Skipping Stones

by Ana Henry
I promised my father
(when I was twelve, on
the cusp of something
unknown to both of us)
that I would learn how.

Not Finding Words

by Rebecca Shubert

No one had ever before suspected that emotions had flavors—I mean, that you could literally taste them on your taste buds. The scientists responsible didn’t like to admit it, but the earth-shattering discovery was kind of an accident.

Crashing Together

by Olivia Stein

The car is spinning, and I can’t do anything to stop her screaming. Her scarf swipes my eyes, a burst of red and blue. “Oh my god!” she screams, her voice one million daggers. Her herbal tea splashes my denim legs, the smell of passion fruit wafting up to meet my nose.

double face

by Altana

the clicking
of computer keys
is what passes
for speaking
these days.

Sticks and Stones

by Altana

people tell me
sticks and stones
may break
my bones
but names
will never hurt me.

All I Want

by Nora Claire Miller

All I Want
1.
you need to understand that
i once read a poem and the poet wanted
skinned knees and springtime.
all i want is absolution.

Where Are You Going to Get a Guitar?

by Sofia Johnson

Ralph Hans stepped onto the subway car, edging sideways so his guitar wouldn’t bump into any hissy evening commuters or rustle the pages of their newspapers. A woman in a long skirt and a “Save the Earth” tank top exhaled sharply, then intensified her blank stare at her reflection in the window.

The Plum-Colored Train

by Sofia Johnson

Back when my sister Eva and I had Halloweens that involved trick-or-treating and normal kid stuff like that, she always got the Midnight Express Extra Darks, on account of she was six and I was three, so I really didn’t have any say in the matter.