Cheeks

By Lauren Bell

when I see my cheeks, round, red and rosy, I want to see a little princess, blonde pigtails, missing teeth, and frilly dresses, happy.

but instead

when I see my cheeks, I see 13, uneven bangs, thunder thighs, and mean, so so mean. he says lazy lazy lazy and I say stupid stupid stupid. I see 16, unmedicated, lonely, alone. they say bitchy bitchy bitchy and I say fat fat fat. I see daddy, aAnd then they’re just another goddamned useless thing I inherited from him.

and

when I see my cheekbones, I see mom, big big laugh and love. I don’t see drawn out smiles, hollow eye sockets, and funeral invitations.

why

when I see my cheeks do I see all the old mes, and not the me I am, or the me I’m becoming?

where has the winter gone?

By Victoria Schroeder

my mother speaks of skating over frozen ponds, i remember snow over my four-year-old head, my father shoveling paths for small dogs that sank into the snowdrifts. when i moved north, i was promised mounds that would tower over the door.

where is it?

when did we trade snow and ice for tornadoes and wildfire? will the children and their children be able to play like i did? how can i make winter memories when it is dying a little more each year?

and when did it happen? did the grown-ups notice that the winter was gasping for breath and ignore it? or is it only hitting them now? when did it start to go? was it when we learned learned rotting trees could fuel iron freights? was it when we learned that Little Boy and Fat Man could power a city? when we went to space, did we become Icarus, burning in our delighted madness for freedom? or did we bring the sun back with us?

…can we send it back?

Women's Greatest Success

By Helena Nikitopoulos

When you traced my hips, you said, Your body is so feminine A woman’s greatest success

Here's to Keanu Reeves (a poem for my best friend)

By Gray Brogden

Here’s to 20-years-olds who have never been kissed and yet still go out on a Friday night To wardrobe panic To midnight Moulin Rouge To drives in the car when the city sparkles like it might still hold something new

Here’s to library study days and papers we never hand in late To shelves lined with annotated paperbacks To all our book boyfriends To stories we read and re-read and read again until words dipped in romance echo round our heads like a promise or a prayer

Here’s to sketchbooks that fall apart at the seams and lip balm lost to the bottoms of bags To espresso before late night movies To popcorn shared across armrests To walking down the theatre's front steps just a little bit more alive than we were when we walked in

Here’s to Keanu Reeves and Adam Driver and Andy Samberg To boys who liked us but were too scared to admit it To failed Tinder dates To conversations that died in a day but still made for a good story over frosted drinks and fondue

From New Roots

By Ethan Shi

Love Is a shared secret A confession

With words falling to the ground I let you in My hands trembling like frail branches Ready to snap at any moment

I handed you the matchsticks Waiting for you to burn me down to my brittle roots Until only my tears survived the flames

Instead You planted an entire forest within me Bringing colour and life to a place That had only ever been half in shadow From new roots The flowers grew brave enough to come out of the dark And bloom towards the sun

And for the first time I felt like I could breathe

Inside Out

By Siddarth Maheshwari

Sometimes my body feels wound wrong My bones feel twisted, like they're in the wrong place Crying out to me, longing for their right place Laying paralyzed, while my insides scream