Blank Pages

By Supriya Bolla

I wish I had trauma that I could spin into a story, 
a story that would grip your thoughts tighter than leather binding, 
Something I could rip to shreds, over-analyze in the margins, 
sew back together, and send off to the publisher before I tear myself apart.

Beyond the Final Umbra

By Zac Stower

A thousand stark crosses
Plotted on a green hill
Once moving a thousand miles an hour
Now stand still.
At life’s bloody terminus
We are told they are the purest of all of us
The rolling front blending together
Forming a sea of forever