Creative

Words by Lucia Lane   The earth cradles me still feeling blood, still feeling breaking I let it lead the way I can hear it’s breathing now I don’t mind dirt on my skin now the hum of electricity doesn’t bother me anymore someone is playing the harp I am gently carried from the floor there is a mug, something warm gathered around open flame she’s asking me to dance and little things look beautiful again I give thanks to the blade that tore me open making room for something softer to form.

Words by Will Hunt The first line of this poem is from Gabriela Mistral’s ‘The Teller of Tales’.   In cocoons of silken thread I live, held entranced by some impervious thing. Waiting for a crack to steep through, unfold my wings and stretch— to feel the joyful ache of release to feel the simple vitality of movement. To stretch—even in those micro-tears, that rushing blood. Instead, the cocoon constricts, the world a convoluted blur of white-lined mass of slithers of light. On the inside, dark. A heavy heart. Beating. Not to the body, but to the head. Flushing it

Words by Belle Ryan   A girl swallowed whole by the yawning ether If you place a weapon in her hand, she will not hurt you Blades of grass bunched in her fi st the lifeblood oozing onto her palms Sap and sweat on her knees staining her skin green and yellow to match adorning bruises She chews through her lip because she is bored A thumb on her chin, I tilt her head up, towards the sky Silver slug trails move from the outer corners of her eyes towards the ground searching – for? a way out always a