The Milkman

By Jaden Gragg

The milkman used to come up this way,

Bringing us his creamy milk, and stories, back in the day.

A dusty train followed him, rising up into the sky,

His buggy drove low, but his spirits sang high.

In my mind, I still see his horse-drawn car,


By Katherine Young

When I rewind the tangled film of that year to replay again,

the transcript hitches, a tainted roll of chromatography paper,

taken out from the closet a few too many times;

when I carefully crop it to the segment in question,