Too Much, Too Late BY: rachel castro

You’ll know her by the hum in your chest

When you look up and take notice

Of that visible covenant after the rain.

And you’ll know her by the sound your feet make

As they fumble through that creek bed

No one remembers the name of.

You should have kept those hands at your side

Instead of in her blood supply.

APPLE CHILD by Rachel Castro

I make noises of a woman who has been nursing hurt from a long time ago, like an apple that was bruised long before it was ripe. These bruises run deep, close to my core.

I fear for the one who chooses me, venturing to peel back my hopeful skin.

Kelly Ann

you are a lion, a crazy lion

you are a peach, a fuzz wuzzy peach

you are a squeegee, a flopy doppy squeegee

you are an old shoe, falling apart from the inside out

your hair is like dark solid amber

your teeth are like sharp daggers

your neck is like the stem of a poppy

your shoulders are like ice cream in a cone

your eyes are like glass marbles

your chin is like a nib without ink on it

your ears are like ribbons

RACHEL

you are an angel with red wings, wings with silver shoulder blades

you are a copper pipe, shiny and new

your voice is like a harp, flowing like a river

your smile is like the sunrise, beaming

your eyes are like the moon, twinkling on the still waters

your elbows are like a swans neck, curved and soft

your toes are like dancing mice, skipping about in the dust in the corners

your hands are like butterflies, warming in the sun

your neck is like a temple wall, smooth and strong