In this old Inverness housewith beveled windows that prism time,I am again at my grandmother’s for the summer.As always, she is not here.But her apron, damp from the wash of morning dishes, hangs near the stove, and her freshly-cut flowers swirl in a bowl of etched glass on the table. Still with dew, their delicate…

The mermaid, a grip tight in each hand,kept the comb to herself, butthrew the looking glass – unaware of the sea-queen’s spells – and was consumed by the tidesof the crescent trench,and the sea bunny slugwith a waterproof watchcrawled after her – and the coral sang her arrival. ____________________________________________________________ Amanda N. Butler is…

To go back to any place in time with such a machine would be nothing short of a miracle and yet I would still not believe in god. If I could choose, I would go back to a time before humanity bipedaled across the terrain of a planet we don’t recognize. Maybe to the dinosaurs, but not…

Things continue to be in the last place you look. My phone tells me it is raining when my cheeks say it isn’t much. I sleep in a ditch and hear the car go past. We walk through the midnight sunlight. Nothing ends. The ground is on fire. A line…

Swaying Trees,A breath of time.So sweet, so fair,For all is mine. ____________________________________________________________ Margaret Banford loves reading and creating art. She is happiest when surrounded by books and hot chocolate. She is currently studying journalism, but started out in Classics, which she still enjoys.

            I have watched you die a thousand times. Perhaps I am embellishing—perhaps I relive it instead when I close my eyes and imagine you here.  But I have seen it, this much is true. It starts, you call my name from where you stand; you run toward me, and disappear. But…

O, sweet Ophephone,how I go againstthe wishes of your mother,fruitful Demeter,in remembering your name,in recording your name,the name removed from scrolls –in this, I salvage your legacy. O, loving Ophephone,who fell in lovewith a mortal fisherman,a man doomed to fallin the nets of Poseidon. O, weeping Ophephone,too anchored with griefto…

A small refugee child hides inside her head holds on to the horror she brought in the small leather suitcase that was placed in her hand when she last saw home.  Years stop by – smile at puppy fat – no wrinkles in her mirror. She orchestrates a motley choir sharp eyes claim friends…

Body clock fuck up,            Going dark, waking up,Reverse body coerce            Dreamstate boy            With neon toyBody clock inverseDiatrunal curseMelatolin bears no grinMy cushion, thrown into the bin            Body clock sped up            Now I’m awake, I really woke up            And watch the hands of time spinCounter-directlySplit seconds into a few too many            Outside it’s twilight            It’s neither day, nor night                        Body…