Session Three Anthology

MENTOR: Chen Chen

The Fay

I loved the fay for their wings
of sugar and their skirts of petal.
For the instruments, crafted
from pinecone and silk
of the spider, with which they made
the music of each afternoon.
Beneath the glamour
they laughed, married
honestly. They lived without the lament
of the parent, they were raised
with mirth by evergreen and evergreen.
The lantern oil was undying.
And once, I tried to lift the spell
by making the garden in the shoebox.
I offered my leftover crusts
and my mortal milk. A hand mirror
as a lake. The small, unbeautiful flowers
that my mother did not teach me to nourish.
They did exist for me. I created them—fantasies
of felicity that remained
fantasy.

~

Heaven Fay is a 21-year-old self-published poet. Her debut collection, Lyra and the Thrush: A ballet in poems, was published December 2018. She currently resides and writes in North Carolina.  

Reference Interview

I hear the hump
at the end of your
splintered semantic

I know your want

The marbles spill out
your circle, roll around

I arrange the ducks
into an interrogative
and give you the taw

You knuckle down

The only words that matter
are the next ones

~

Evelyn N. Alfred is an information professional, poet, social media content curator, and prose reader at Linden Avenue Literary Journal. Her writing can be found at Public Pool, The Offing, and upcoming in the [SOFT] anthology by MIEL. She’s originally from Fresno, but currently lives in Mitchellville with her wife.

ghazal, untitled

The day after he raped me, he said it’s too bad
most people don’t know how to be

close with all that love. There is something to be said about holding
myself close, with no hands, with no risk of being

blamed for falling into the wrong hands,
made out to seem as if I wanted this to be

they say
you don’t have to be alone if you don’t want to be

I have to say, that’s just not true: sometimes
I do have to be alone, even if I don’t want to be.

One day once, when
I grew up, a truck driver was what I wanted to be:

constant adjustment, hyper spatial awareness,
always gone somewhere, some place I’d rather be.

I inconvenience the world for a gamble’s sake.
Doesn’t every heart deserve a place to wail? To Be?

Most days, I am someone I very much do not wish to be.
What a relief, to find a bridge I managed not to burn.

Mine is best left in the hands of navigation. So, these days,
I drive a cab for the people of Miami, but mostly for me.

My own Little Road Dog, Little Beast, Little Wandering Bard
You belong somewhere you feel free to be.

~

Cecily Schuler