My mallowy, my kismet star,
my baby purple absolute.
I climb your open sinuses,
slime your hollow gooey ribs.
(please please pick me,
a red heart embroidered
on a baseball cap. i thread
alive in the sunshine—
you can feel it in your hands).
When we collide you roll me down
the morning hill just like a breeze.
Your tongue a leech inside my mouth,
your iris bubble wonderful.
(whatever you want me
to chew, i’ll do. my summertime
valentine, my open
throat, my please
please please)
Emily Rosello Mercurio is currently pursuing her MFA in Creative Writing at Cornell University, where she also serves as Assistant Editor for EPOCH Magazine. Her work is forthcoming in Plain China.
ISSUE FIFTEEN: Lastly, My Seer
Michael Albright
Because of your problem,
do you often feel others
have no idea what you are going through?
Emily Rosello Mercurio
Sunny Honey
Rose Knapp
Socio-EFascismo
Rachel Mindell
Life as we know it
Kathleen E. Krause
Digging Digits
Kristie Betts Letter
Montana Wildhack Read Aloud
Sandeep Kumar Mishra
Pebbles
Daniel Romo
Diplomacy
Elizabeth Kirkpatrick-Vrenios
See Saw Margery Daw
Nate Maxson
Patient Zero
Alec Hershman
The Point of Vanishing