Maddie Holm PITCH BLACK EASTER EGGS

I’ve got a glass of water and a pill on my windowsill.

I’ve got another new book coming in next week,

I’ve got a succulent in a Diet Coke can with minty green hands

Dripping wet condensation silently on the rug.

I’ve got a beaker of caffeine and anxieties that jiggle up and down on my leg.

A beaker of caffeine and the taste of nicotine being forced inside my mouth. I don’t smoke and I never have but I remember the taste. I don’t know why I go there. Pills with their color coded languages love speaking in tongues. Tongues that can taste but not speak. I’ve got a closet of clothes and a roommate with a lockbox on a shelf in her room. I’ve got to get into that box but I can never find the key. I’ve got solar eclipse darkness shining over me from the hallways and in between bedroom doors that sit still closed and unaware.

I’ve got a basket of pitch black Easter eggs filled with feelings, secrets, cries for help. You won’t notice.

I’ve got another voice and another set of memories, another pair of lips that spit and sneer. I’ve got that voice whispering in my ears sending me back to the hallway during Easter of 2005. There is a pink dress with lace and buttons hanging in the sun. Then there’s two hands leading the way to hell. It’s a long way up the stairs. It’s a long way to this moment, my legs pulled into my chest. I’ve got friends ringing my phone outside a locked door like I’ve gone missing. They’ve got their eyes locked on me for “safety.” I’ve got a doctor who pries in my mind and hypnotizes my invisibilities. Who wrings them out and hangs them to dry. I’ve got a pill sliding down my throat, slithering into my brain. I’ve got a soul that tries to catch butterflies in a fishnet. I’ve got a perfect view that I can’t get rid of. I’ve got an idea that memories can be forged like second-hand thrift-store-lies. I’ve got an urge to turn black with the closed blinds worrying about whether I ruined something or another. I don’t know why.

Sometimes nightmares shake me awake with rough and calloused hands. Sometimes rough and calloused hands like nightmares shake me awake. I don’t know if I say no or yes or stare at family portraits. If I desperately shriek or become sidetracked staring at his beads of sweat when they pierce my flesh without warning. It’s still 2005. My lungs overflow and parted lips are on a one-way train to my own. I’ve got a ticket to that moment. I’ve got him shushing me, his fingers searching, up and down my small arms. Those fingers sharper than rusty nails sticking out from haunted houses, confetti falling through my hair and Easter eggs hidden in the backyard shushing me, he says it’s not a big deal, but it’s a big deal, it’s a huge deal. This is what nightmares are made of.

C N R O T I

B T R U O S

Jess Parker

Jess L Parker lives in Fitchburg, WI with her husband and two-year-old son. Her debut poetry collection, Star Things, is winner of the Dynamo Verlag Book Prize. Jess’ poems have appeared in Gyroscope, Kosmos, and Blue Heron Review. Jess holds an M.A. of Spanish Literature from UWMadison, and an MBA.

Gloria Glau

gloria glau is italian. she lives in rome, where she is good at mental illness and bad at everything else.

Ankur Jyoti Saikia

Ankur Jyoti Saikia (he/ his/ him) is a forestry researcher based in India, who writes poems and believes in his self-coined maxim: ‘scribble, submit, repeat’. Twitter & Instagram: @ amythfromassam

Katy Naylor

Katy Naylor lives by the sea, in a little town on the south coast of England. She has a deep and abiding affection for pigeons. Katy is the editor of voidspace zine (@_voidspace_zine) and has had work published in places including Ellipsis Zine, Reflex Fiction and Misery Tourism. Find her on twitter @voidskrawl

Zakaylah Porter

Zakaylah Porter (She/her) currently resides in her hometown of Lansing MI, where she is pursuing a degree in creative writing and publishing. She has poems and short fiction on personal blogs as well as non-fiction essays. She will also be featured in Sophon Lit’s inaugural issue this summer.

Lauren Sarkissian

Lauren Sarkissian (she/her) is an irl plague doctor based in Seattle. She is a health communicator, infectious disease researcher, and full-time corgi mom. You can find more of her ramblings, art, and photography at @lrnsark on Instagram.

Grace Tsichlis

Grace Tsichlis is a creative writing and publishing graduate student at DePaul University. She lived most of her life in Texas, but now resides in Chicago for school and work. She’s a huge fan of baking, earl grey tea, and stand-up comedy. You can find more of her work in They Call Us, a feminist literary magazine, and Runestone Literary Journal.

Charlie Brogan

Charlie Brogan is a poet and model living in London. She is currently studying for her MA in Poetry at The Poetry School. Her work has been featured in PEACH Mgzn, ASH, Dear Damsels, Stylist, and Aurelia. You can find her on @charlieblergh

Daniel J. Flosi

Daniel J Flosi sometimes thinks they are an apparition living in a half-acre coffin within the V of the Mississippi and Rock Rivers. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Funicular Magazine, Olney Magazine, Rejection Letters, Feral Poetry and many more can be found at dkflosi.wordpress.com. Find his chapbook at BullshitLit.com Drop a line @muckermaffic

Maddie Holm

Maddie Holm is a 26-year-old counseling intern finishing up her final year of graduate school. When she is not working, she enjoys writing poems and short stories in her free time. Her current passions are treating eating disorders, watching horror movies, and adding fried eggs to her ramen.