Futon

by Mathew Mcgovern

I see a deep forest

in the evergreen futon

whose wrinkles are brimming

with landscapes, little hills

written through wavering folds

shapes resembling eyes just closed

a brow arching in and a large crooked nose

indiscript visages won’t deign to define themselves

Perhaps these fissures ressemble glaciers

stacked, full and monumental

or veins and patches of flesh splayed out

on this awe-inspiring canvas,

laudable yet floppy futon

content in the corner of the room

the sag of whose own weight

makes a low wide smile.

A Demonstration

by Megan Amero

this is the way i fall

over into the ground and 

this is the way the earth 

wraps itself around me

my blood turning green like envy with

each chlorophyll-laden beat of 

my underground heart.

this is the way the sky grabs me

by my exposed ankles— 

a stray breeze bestowing upon my skin

the thick cloak of frostbite.

this is the way i fall

moving with wingless flight;

this is the way my body

knows no end.