by Megan Hodges The fields remember what we meant, not said:your laugh between the rows, the dust, the hush.Some love stays quiet long after it’s fled. We named the stars, then crawled into the shedand kissed behind the rake, so young, so rushed.The fields remember what we meant, not said….
by Stasha Powell Even then, I wrote delusions, nightmares easier to slip into than face the truth. I traced perfect curves on crooked lines, lost in the rhythm, losing time, punctuation a casualty in the chaos of my mind. I hid secret friends in the cracks of fantasy, their whispers easier to hear than the noise outside. Phone calls…