gross in a good way
Writing
Bodhisattva
By Billie CroftI will liken the heavy clouds that pass over my land to grey matter
before my body remembers the practicality of pain
inheritance
By Elliot DelSignorei have my father’s temper, my father’s eyes.
i keep my bloody birthrights in a clear glass jar.
all the things i’ve laid claim to with my mother’s fingers;
long, pale, five on each hand, like real people have.