This bloom still reckless, its heat
breaking into the furious hum
bugs use for melting snow 

–there’s no interest in romance 
though every winter now
is warmed, takes hold your hand

by brushing against the dirt 
risks its place to lure you, naked
in front the house, her breasts

surrounded and across your tongue
a lingering darkness welcomes them
knows nothing why your fingers smell

from avalanche and salt
and never had that taste for sweets
moving mouth to mouth

snatching things up, louder and louder
certain this frost is frost, named
so soon after its birth and yours.


Author Bio:
Simon Perchik is an attorney whose poems have appeared in Partisan Review, The Nation, Poetry, Osiris, The New Yorker, and elsewhere. His most recent collection is Almost Rain, published by River Otter Press (2013).  For more information, including free e-books, his essay titled “Magic, Illusion and Other Realities” please visit his website at www.simonperchik.com. 

it's a season
and a fever
that creeps in upon
us when we
least expect it

like the well-meaning
counselor asking
us to close our eyes
and see where
our minds take us

like the mother figure
leading us across
the dangerous road
of our memories.

Watch her zip up
the strapless gown,
with a little jump
to power through
to the top,
then run her hands
over her waist
and hips
and twist her torso
to reflect a minute on the girl
who is going to the prom.
She has no acne on her back now,
this girl,
or lunchroom friends
who abandon her,
or feathery hair on her upper lip.
In the fitting room,
under full-spectrum lights
surrounded by halters,
V-necks, and sweethearts,
she has found her style.
Watch her
bend over
to fill the cups to the top
with the perfect breasts
she always wanted.
 

Author Bio:
S.K. Tatiner is a student at the Writers Studio Advanced Poetry Workshop. She lives and works in New Jersey.

i have picked these lines again
from the chest of my heart
the chest i once locked away...

i sit in tears under the gaze of the moon
under the twinkles of whispering stars
and as i watch the wood lay their beauty for ashes
on the altar of fire...

i burn with your memories...my ashes...


Author Bio:
Goodness Lanre Ayoola is from Osun State, Nigeria. Some of his poems have appeared in Tuck Magazine, Indian Periodicals, Transcendent Zero, Words Rhymes and Rhythms, Praxismagonline, and other online magazines. He has a B.A. in English.

Like the curve of a river and a sinuous stream
Mostly resplendent, at times reserved
That nigh-smile of yours at near-start of day when our eyes are par-open
A belief so firm, a faith so divine
Like nary a trouble stood near our room
Or even miles from it
My fears allayed, my rationale swayed
My faith grows with the curve on your lip
Why would I need an altar, when I know grace lay next to me--
In the calmest of streams, at the crack of dawn
Oh, more like the Pangong Lake you visited
So serene and yet so spirited
Like a bottomless pool of divinity
A place no fear can lay its eyes.
Mornings are my favourite,
For they have your smiles as big as the skies.


Author Bio:
Ashima Sharma works for The Times Group in Mumbai, a metropolis and a port city teaming with people and opportunities in an ever growing India. 

As a strategist, she often wondered if that type of writing would ever make her happy. In an odd stroke of luck, she married a poet, who made her happier than she could imagine. Thus, she decided to begin writing creatively.

Her maiden poem is about the reassuring smile she sees on her husband's face while he is still asleep. She gets up moments earlier than him only to see that expression. 

A vapor
Hold my conscious mind
Within this decomposing shell.
Anesthetized to reality
My paralyzed consciousness 
Never feels, only watches.
This fleshy concentration camp
Detains my soul
Leaving only my red eyes visible
To watch
The Hallucinations
Of a cellulose world.


Author Bio:
Marie Beau has been writing since she was 8-years-old. As a child, she wrote short stories and poetry to deal with the pain of her childhood. As a teenager, she started using her poetry as a tool to help her through the emotional recovery from traumatic childhood events. Her therapist helped support her on the long road to emotional recovery, and it was worth every painful step in that long journey.

As an adult, she still writes short stories, poetry, and novels, though her day job is chief librarian. She is an admitted Book Nerd who never wants to recover, and believes that being well read makes people better writers.