• Lit,  Lit Poetry

    Shadow in the Door by Clea

    When the last of rose has mellowed, And faded with decay, And the warmth has fled in silence, Borne off in cold dismay, I’ll see your silhouette, underneath the tawny moon, Suspended for a moment, A dream; one gone too soon. A beautiful deception, A tree’s laden sorrel bows, To peer upon the fruit, To find it black in autumn’s…

  • Lit,  Lit Poetry

    Melissa Undone by Ronda Redmond

    You are a willow branch broke open. Sleek. puffed with soft. Wind breaks you down, twists you. I’ve seen you fight it, and now I say Stop. Let yourself break free. Snap at the root, blow puff to the wind. Become a cloud, pass over mountains. Come east. Come to me. I’ll hold the sky for you, tether my roots…

  • Lit,  Lit Poetry

    I am by Rachel Waring

    I am broken bones and scraped knuckles ……..bruised knees and black eyes ……..cut up arms and twisted ankles ……..tear-stained cheeks and shaking hands ……..screaming lungs and pounding heart ……..constantly healing but continually fighting Looking in the mirror I watch bruises fade and swirl On a face I barely recognize I tell myself Keep fighting, keep going But everything hurts I…

  • Lit,  Lit Poetry

    Golden rule of being a feminist by Snimar

    Today I learned the golden rule of feminism. Tip 101 of being the right kind of Feminist. I can’t like the colour pink. So, this is how it works: Pink is labeled as a woman’s colour and if I happen to like it I am succumbing to the pressure of Patriarchy. But, uh, I’m sorry to say I’m not drowning…

  • Lit,  Lit Poetry

    Stop by Abbie Arnold

    I am not yours to interrogate, to tear apart with attention. I gave you what I could, and all you did was ask Why. Now all I have is mental images and silent weeping before sleep drowns out my awareness and forced laughter and fingernails squeezing blood from the shadows of my skin and rejection; loud, barreling rejection and giggles…

  • Lit,  Lit Poetry

    Walmart by Tina

    is my least favorite store on earth. The lighting ghosts my face. The music is nauseating. And all their products remind me of little children bent over their work, thinking themselves lucky that they have this fourteen-hours-a-day job that teases their tiny bellies with not enough food. It’s easy to forget all that when you look at the cheaper price…

  • Lit,  Lit Poetry

    hiraeth by Emmy Song

    the long summer i wished would never end. you wondered if your clammy fingers could get away with brushing against mine, measuring the weight of my thighs, tangling your heartstrings with mine. because everything you did ended in tragedy. my dreams typed out in lowercase letters i was afraid of growing up so i sanded my ferocity until my skin…