Thought Through

eyes illuminate

below the calculated flicks of elongated lashes

bold brows raise sharply

in a delicate distraction

as fragile fingers begin

to put into play

plans half-thought through

“Thought Through” by Meaghan Merrifield

On the Side of the Road

yesterday, on the car ride home,

I had to pull over and

imagine you

slipping your slight fingers

under my shirt and over my fluttering heart-

—

I let my eyes roll inwards

and back

to that blinking

jungle of cobweb confusion

that blossoms

in your body

between sleep and sight.

Where everything flashes

then falls

loose

and limp.

“I had to” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse

Artwork: Wildwood by Elle Hanley

On Your Merry-go-round

I see that it is me

I am running after.

soft, bowed legs

flat, smacking feet

and a lung inflated by the the pinching mist

of your marigold perfume.

I live in

circles within circles in a Nowhereland–

but

as long as the haze of your touch

tingles

in my chest,

I am happy to spin

like a carousel horse

with a pole

through

its

spine.

“Spun” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse

Artwork: A Delicate Balance by Morgan Kendall

True Seeing

the curtain that I peer through is Ivory

not white-

so when your legs tremble

in your back’s lonely slouch,

I see in them

the earthiness of light brown. And you are

a little biege feather

quivering in anticipation of the morning breeze.

And this

and this

is more soothing

than the truth.

“Through the Window” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse

Artwork: The Velvet Darkness of his Mind by Morgan Kendall

I Wish We Were Closer

In my dream, you were naked–

I think.

–Your breasts and lips were drenched

in the scent of me and

I was

all over you.

At first it made you feel yellow

and new-

like a champagne flower

bubbling in the sunshine

— and then you were angry at me

for reflecting all the mean holes

in your prettyheart

“Prettyheart” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse

Artwork: Flora & Fauna by Jenn Mann

Prettymouth

You would please me-

but—

Your graceful words

trip

on plump,

pickled

coughs

Artwork by Marko Koeppe and Vesna Pesic

Never Yours

When a girl has sails in her eyes

do not try to kiss her ruby-stained lips

or pet her porcelain wrists

for she

belongs

to the salted waves of adventure

that crash

and break

against your hopeful

hands

“Advice for The Optimist” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse

Gone

HIs white walk

hardens in that place between my spine

and my skull–

It feels like holding back tears

and scattered fever chills–

like scraping rusty metal with my splitting fingernail

until the sound numbs my arm

and I cannot speak.

But it is the

last new memory I have

of him.

And

will not bury it

today.

“Gone” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse

Artwork: Our Great Love Story by Agnes Cecille