elementia gross in a good way

Writing

Bodhisattva

By Billie Croft

I will liken the heavy clouds that pass over my land to grey matter

              before my body remembers the practicality of pain

              & blood rushes into my bladder.

 

              I’ll swallow a scream, or


inheritance

By Elliot DelSignore

i 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.