Confessional
dark trauma hides in acrid metallic smells,quick glimpses of shadows,a grunt,a touch,goat cheese.
Read MoreMonth: May 2025
Categories:
HER NAME IS ELAINE
Susan Lepera
Categories:
Poetry
the lake it take
lost in between the cracksIt calls us near – the sirens on cups in subterranean cafe we played in that 20′ haze,hot tub nights, kill bill on a dipson theatre iberia blue opm in the aughts,our weekly rituals in the haze. meaningfully talks not superficial.supportive, funnyhe…
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meeting
my body doesn’t want to do this.small gurgles pressurize in my belly, theyamalgamate growing.inhale and exhale become less, forgetting to breathe calmly.my hands shake. my lips press together, andI lick my lips while they are inside my mouth.the back of my leg, chicken skin quivering. when…
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