I remember your big gray bike with the breaks at the hands. I took it once, and walked it up Victoria Point.

Still I will write, if only to pity the fool who scorns the Olympiad for taking the dive into the dozen meters of water below for playing in puddles, while they toy with the water’s surface from the coping with the tip of their pinky finger. Still I will write, though I must weep too for the monkeys that ever starve as naught a morsel of food lies on the ground yet over their heads is a tree of fresh fruits that remains disregarded, even despite their expert ability to climb

I don’t know how to write a poem about apricot rosemary ice cream and downs syndrome oysters. They both melt on the tongue with powerful differences. One churned after being picked and snipped by local fingers, served on the edge of a cliff in a cobblestone town that stands the test of time – thick houses shuttered, an empty church on fire with light inside, a pizza truck outside, the fountains of clothes-washing water, not to drink. The other plucked from the sea, shucked an

Twists and turns like melon vines, Sharp,with glistening shine under scorching heat, Adorning the fence’s concrete like a winding crown, The barbed wire runs to and fro, holding up space with a jagged blade. With rust at bends, tetanus threatening, Ripped fabric, ever terrifying, A piece of many who have dared to climb. Keep your feet safely within boots, There lays barbed wire on your fence ahead. Keep your hands fitted safely within gloves, It cuts and slashes through soft,

Arches and stations of iron and carbon! Whose callused hands welded you hence - Wiping sweaty grime from their hardened brow?

Google Earth erased my home from its maps. One day it was there, the next day it was gone.

We can only have so many concerns I suppose, by back of the envelope, just a few places at once.

oh I wonder if you and I are watching the same stars in the sky tonight

Part of me came to the sea, the part that reaches for you, an azure that peeks from behind more cloud than sky.

Supernatural winds hasten across the sky Under a tilted Cheshire moon, wry Makes for a weird mood Different from a full moon

We arrived with the same hunger, nineteen and unprepared, dragging whole countries behind us, Romania folded into a suitcase

After this deep breath, I turn back on the trail To jog toward the sun

Battles follow you where you go In soft places where harm seems hidden but you know it lingers in small shadows

My first plant was a vibrant yellow tulip Leading to my first obsession Wanting to take a sunbath in the pollen; I plucked the flower from the pot And a mush of brown began to appear Swallowing my obsession into the roots To a reflection of petals that deceive Discovering that through the soil I’d grown into my own Becoming known as both yellow and mush of brown Overwatered unable to know contentment Devin Riddle currently lives in Savannah, Georgia. Her work has bee

The world is hoping against hope That you don’t wake up and regain your crown. THINK on these things…….

It’s two in the morning again, Another night wasted alone. All we did was take away the pain. I spent my night ignoring the phone.

Lives folded in boxes, dreams zipped in bags, hanging on a thread of hope that each landing unlocks a better uncertainty.

Ana Ruth Salinas, the Tigress of El Salvador.

I sat at the table with the man on fire We were having a party The man just sat there... on fire And we did nothing....

How are you? they asked her ...gave it some thought... and then She said; Complete Integrated Solid Whole Strong Woman How do you feel? they asked her ...gave it some thought and then She said; Joyful Energetic Gleeful Soulful Alive Awake Sensual Lusty Aware So it seems that this woman no longer needs the strength of her fortress to be alive and in the moment....to function ....to exist.... She unlocked the door...to her truth....her fortress was no longer needed she could be