Sydney Wagner

I. Suburban Coffin

My skeletons hide
deep within my coat closet.
I wish to exhume.

II. Dead on Arrival

Scalpel slices skin
This new body lacks a heart.
And yet, it still beats.

III. Autopsy

Name: Unimportant.
Age: It was too long ago.
Type: Clearly not mine.

IV. Handsaw

I break down the ribs
and hope to see flashing red.
Hearts won’t bleed for me.

V. The Anthropologist

Winter has frozen
the blood in my veins, and I
yearn to be exhumed.

SYDNEY WAGNER (she/her) loves writing, her cats, and doing anything to keep from thinking. She particularly loves writing things down on Post-It notes and then forgetting about them. She doesn’t use it often, but you can find her @sydwagner02 on Twitter, or working on her own literary magazine, On Gaia Lit.

Nikki Allen

(a dizain)

I am a fisherman who caught old boots,
seaweed sometimes but never any fish.
I’ve snagged old instrupments: one snare, two lutes—
I’ve scored a place setting: spoon, knife, fork, dish—
sweatpants and collared shirts, new toys with squish.
Call me foolish for the junk in my boat—
poke fun at the anchor rust on my coat;
I may forever stink like stupid sea,
but don’t forget the diamond at your throat—
where do you think gifts come from, when from me?

NIKKI ALLEN is the author of numerous books, including Hotwire (River Dog Press ‘21) and Ligaments of Light/Tigering the Shoulders (Night Ballet Press). She believes in revolution, strong coffee, the hard knocks & the sweetness.