What i want as a teenager is to

By Anonymous

come to you in
cyclical relapse
with each syllable

muzzling silence
be tempted to borrow
its imprisonment and speak in
dialogues conversed by

friction of skins.

Off to Prom We Go

By Peggy Yin

I tried on a mermaid dress the other day, and waddled two steps before stripping it off;
I saw how it snagged on my hips and clutched at my chest,

the same way I gripped the towels we tripped in so many years ago—
our hair, stringy and streaming from the community pool

aunties' feet

By Octavia Williams

Bony fingers whipping, winding, wrinkling ‘cross my scalp
Heat near ears - don’t do it - yep, she’s scalded me
“Girl, don’t wail like that!” Popped with comb
Wince and whine, smile inside - aunties like this are rare
No they’re not, dime a dozen, priceless