a park in the middle of anywhere

a swing-set. dirty blonde pigtails sway
along the long legs of this girl, laughing

because the boy she cut in line to swing is crying, and she
finds her first victory over a man, crossing

finish lines that are meant to hold her back.
she ignores the ropes that keep her in the ring.

it tastes good, this teaspoon of premature revenge, giggles
tickling her tongue. i will not hold back, this girl

swings so high, her toes almost graze the glass.
she does not yet understand how small she will feel

when she sprouts breasts, grows curves and other items
up for grabs. she loves to be noticed now, but she won’t

forever: a big word. stuck forever in this body, in this
trophy case. we are shiny, we are sexy, we are

sorry for being born this way. i didn’t mean to be
a woman. is she still fighting? is she still swinging?

or is she still?

By Anna Leonard

Biography:

Anna Leonard is an Atlanta-based 21-year-old graduate from Virginia Commonwealth University with a Bachelor’s degree in Theatre and a concentration in Performance. She cultivated an interest in writing through dissecting plays and chose to adopt a minor in Creative Writing. She is an avid singer-songwriter with music out on Spotify, Apple Music, etc. and aims to create pieces dedicated to sincerity.

Bird Feeding

“Look,” Baba says,
“They’re praying for us.”

On top of the mint blue slide,
I watch a few swerve
in between trees, white
bread scraps in their beaks.
They beckon the rest
to come eat
— red, blue, white, black, brown
wings steady on the lawn.

I slide down
to move closer
and listen to the birds pray,
but they hear
me dawdle their way
and take off pleading
to the sky.

By Zahraa Farhat

Biography:

Zahraa Farhat is a Lebanese American writer and former journalist for The Arab American News. She has a bachelor’s degree in English from the University of Michigan – Dearborn and master’s degree in creative writing from Wayne State University. As a daughter of immigrants and a Muslim in America, her writing is preoccupied with themes of family, war, country, and identity.

Dealing with the Devil

It’s funny how dead you can feel inside
when all there is to life, is a deal with the devil –
the devil that is capitalism,
tempting you with money, the luxuries, the dreams.
It’s a deal you cut when you’re born into this world.
The devil engrains his gifts into you,
whispering this is what you want,
that this is what you need.

When it comes time to let go of the menial exchanges
and elevate your desires that you’ve kept hidden so long –
the devil’s gifts are already embedded so deeply into you,
that you won’t be able to forego them without a fight.
Your battle with the devil will be within,
against the his mandates living in your mind.

For not choosing his options, the devil will hold out on rewarding you.
The pursuit of your self without the devil may leave you decrepit,
in the boones of society,
hungry with a deep lust to fill up your pockets,
or it may reward you,
leaving you drenched in the money, the luxuries the dreams.

The irony of it all.
Even when we choose ourselves,
we can’t escape the devil.

By Saya Iwasaki

Biography:

Saya Iwasaki writes poetry reflecting the emotional burden that stems from existing in today’s society. Having grown up in multiple international societies as a Japanese woman, her poetry straddles the dualities of being a woman continuously searching for her identity and belonging while living with trauma and dissociation. Formerly an art teacher and graphic designer, Saya received her MA in Education at Stanford and went on to immerse herself in the tech world. Poetry is her foray into herself.

The Whirlpool

Water poured among uneaten islets,
down the alleys, down from the roofs.
At dinnertime, the sour smell of sticky buds
burst out of the park.
Wistful birds whistled on the windowsill
making kids laugh,
and teaspoons jingled,
and the wooden fence creaked.
The vapor wreathed up and, in the tousled air,
reaching another state of matter,
it gathered water into pellets again
and wept them down like tears of repentance.

By Kristina Kryukova

Translated by Sergey Gerasimov from Russian.

Biography:

Kristina Kryukova is an author from Russia. She lives in Moscow. Her most recent poems have appeared Salmon Creek Journal, Poets Choice. She graduated from the Moscow University of Culture and Arts. Winner of several national and international poetry awards, mother of two kids

Pressed into Purple

There are two purple bruises
on each of my knees, one
for each of us. I pressed down
until the pain scurried away.

It hid
in a stranger’s lawn and
found us picking lavender. I told you
its smell is supposed to assist with sleep.

You took in
the late of night under my eyes, my
bulbous yawn, and asked me
how many monsters were keeping me up.

I didn’t need to explain
that the only monster under my bed
was the familiar twinge
of an absentee ache.

Now, this pain has blossomed
into four lavender stems, toughened
by the grasp of a persistent palm.

The language of your hand
said forever, but the way I placed
the lavender in the pages of my dictionary

made me wonder
if there was something more
I was trying to preserve.

By Sidney Muntean

Biography:

Sidney Muntean is a high school student in the Creative Writing program at Orange County School of the Arts. She is the founder and editor-in-chief of a creative arts publication, The Junebug Journal. Her work has been recognized by various contests such as the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards and Kay Snow Writing Awards and most recently appears in Orca, Adonis Designs Press, and Sunspot Lit. Sidney also likes to dabble in performance poetry, as she won 3rd place with her team in the slam poetry competition OC RYSE.