Cryptographerby Tamar Yoseloff
I string together little fables
in a language no one understands.
So much wounds me.
I wite it down, cross it out:
a formula for contentedness -
instead so much violence
They could kill me with a look
You come to me in dreams
blurred touch of you hand
Your name scrawled on every wall.
Your shadow stalks me.
How we got here I don’t know,
there is nowher else.
Winter obliterates us, dizzy light,
our white youth
Hesitateby Lorraine Mariner
Don’t let those black
full-stops get the better
of what you’ve got.
Cut yourself some slack,
give yourself some shades
of grey
on a wave
that might just take you
beyond the end of the line.