i befriended a fruit fly once,
with body black, and bending knees.
knowing secrets of the universe, hence
it told me how to live in peace.
Poetry
My Type
my type lies about their music taste until it’s too late and we’re both pretending to like St. Vincent
Five Poems by Max Hamilton
o-scrape off in time n-watch th-word-raid brake
Best Kept Secret
My old is translated and tampered with by the new
Don’t
Don’t hold my face when you say it./
Don’t look at me as if you’ll crumble if I turn away.
Poems by Sasha Trufanov
I’m roaming inside America/
My feet have gotten very cold
what becomes of the spring (after Ocean Vuong’s “Aubade With Burning City”)
They warn each other not to breathe me in
Anti-Sweetheart Sentiment
I’ve always thought redemptions should come in the form of damp little castles.
Button-Up
Unbuttoning is always forgettable; in either a monotonous or adrenaline-filled way.
Bill of Rights Poem
My cries for equality cannot be silenced