Blank Pages

By Supriya Bolla

I wish I had trauma that I could spin into a story, 

a story that would grip your thoughts tighter than leather binding, 

Something I could rip to shreds, over-analyze in the margins, 

Beyond the Final Umbra

By Zac Stower

A thousand stark crosses

Plotted on a green hill

Once moving a thousand miles an hour

Now stand still.

At life’s bloody terminus

We are told they are the purest of all of us

The rolling front blending together