A trumpet vine splatters the open clockwork of the down central escalator with orange. In the food court, chairs with slashed seat cushions echo the pattern of a bikini atoll, newly formed.
On the wall of the downstairs ladies bathroom, someone has scrawled "ALL SALES FINAL" in red spray paint, and added a halo as a dot to the 'i.' A tall weed growing out of the sink obscures the graffiti tag.
In the light, dust motes glitter down into the atrium from the broken skylight. All the shoppers have gone home one last time. Sparrows aerate a clearance rack full of empty hangers.
In dreams, I sit at the broken-off counter drinking orange juliuses, and ordering breakfast at No-More Neon End of the World Late Night Cafe.
Sarah Ann Winn's poems have appeared or will appear soon in Cider Press Review, Massachusetts Review, Quarterly West, Nashville Review, and RHINO, among others. Recently, her piece "Field Guide to Alma Avenue and Frew Drive" was a finalist for Tupelo Quarterly's Prose Open contest, judged by Joanna Howard. Her chapbook, Portage, was released by Sundress Publications. Find her at bluebirdwords.com, or you can follow her @blueaisling on Twitter.
Jill Khoury
[posterior vitreous detachment]
Colony
Sonya Vatomsky
Mouth-Off (III)
The Serbo-Croatian language
uses the same word, čičak,
for burdock and Velcro
Kamden Hilliard
no baby but the poem is about you
Jessica Schouela
The Funeral
Chris Campanioni
Working Models
Sarah Ann Winn
Suburban Thaw
Rolling Acres Mall, Abandoned
Cynthia Conte
Number three star: Fast years
Diane Gage
Nanobiomaximum
Dear John (Cage)
John Lowther
a sonnet from 555
Rebecca Yates
What is "Emoji"?
Glen Armstrong
Archivist
Marta Ferguson
The Nether as Pizza Parlor
September Hinkle
Surviving Charlie