ISSUE NINE: Y'all Reset My S | next poem →

Vapor Trail

Farah Ghafoor

This is the one where I try to polish the moon with an electronic toothbrush. Its honey is an illusion but you don’t tell me that. This is the one where I try to put away my hands, planting them into starched pockets or hair that doesn’t screech when I chew it. I shouldn’t try to get rid of body parts but you don’t tell me that. This is one where I am clawing into a vacant lot, searching for a soul that could be mine. It feints before punching me in the face, telling me to get a hold of myself but you don’t tell me that. This is the one where I’m picking tart airplanes out of clouds, and they cave in your mouth but you don’t tell me that. This is the one where I was snapping crab legs at the beach, and giving them to you to roast, but my acid reflex is your brain and damn, I hate crab.

Farah Ghafoor is a fifteen year old poet and a co-founder/editor at Sugar Rascals. She genuinely believes that she deserves a cat and expensive perfumes. Her work is published or forthcoming in Alexandria Quarterly, alien mouth, Whirlwind, Moonsick and elsewhere. Find her online at fghafoor.tumblr.com.

ISSUE NINE: Y'all Reset My S | next poem →













ISSUE NINE: Y'all Reset My S

Sarah B. Boyle
   Before You Look at the Plan,
     Ask Yourself

Farah Ghafoor
   my bird/my body
   Vapor Trail

Sarah Mitchell-Jackson
   Camping

William James
   Deconstruction VI

Alejandro Escudé
   The Poet’s Ancient Cursor

Tammy Robacker
   Afterglow
   My Husband Grows a Rose
     Hybrid with No Thorns

Janet Dale
   Affecting Phenomena

Raymund Reyes
   The Barker

Laura Carter
   from Good Horse

KJ Hannah Greenberg
   Politics, Like Sardines

Nancy Devine
   Teaching