by Tammy Ho Lai-Ming
Do I have a quickening pulse? You deserve it.
That’s quite a genius line.
And your finger, swirling, might rape a rose.
If you were a warrior, man up your game.
Plaster my forearms in milky white.
How lovely to have a glass eye.
I’d both be looking and not looking
when you put ice cubes and chilli in the bathtub.
I forget the art of squinting
but remember a tigress could dangle
a fawn by her front teeth.
So you said my heart is made of porcelain
but not my palms. They coarsen
the rustiest windowpanes and you.
I could be a wind-up doll keeps nodding her head,
despite losing her feet.
Two lovers accidentally
getting poisoned by carbon monoxide
might look better than us, today.
Tammy Ho Lai-Ming is a Hong Kong-born writer currently based in London, UK. She is a founding co-editor of Cha: An Asian Literary Journal and the poetry editor of Fleeting Magazine. More at www.sighming.com.
photo by zaschischayuschiesia
by Sarah Edwards
Sarah Edwards is an experimental/street photographer living in Montreal, Canada.
by Julie Kovacs
At that turning of the season
evergreens emerald against the
first fallen snow spun sugar
on the plateau in the Rockies.
A marmot poked its head
out of the rocky ground
sat on its haunches
gazing over a herd of mountain goats
stand facing inward
their graceful horns
forming an elaborate bow
similar to the one
on the present you
gave me on my last birthday.
Suspended in disbelief
after unwrapping it
silver glitter cascaded to the floor
followed by tears of joy
carried out by the river
never to be seen
in their salty feelings again.
Julie Kovacs lives in Venice, Florida. Her poetry has been published in Children Churches and Daddies, Because We Write, Illogical Muse, Poems Niederngasse, Aquapolis, The Blotter, Danse Macabre, Silver Blade, The Camel Saloon, Falling Star, Blue and Yellow Dog, Veil, Moria, Nether, and Cherry Bleeds. She is the author of two poetry books: Silver Moonbeams, and The Emerald Grail. Visit her website.
photo by GaffkePhotography