Tamar Vidra Let’s leave before dark,
But we found ourselves surrounded by something other than darkness
For even the light beams of our car could not cut against the world
Or reveal the mountain ridges
On which our road is paved It was like the ones we drove on earlier that day
That winded up to the top of the mountain
Roads that looked like the ridges
Concavities of swirled icing that reaches the summit of a cupcake And now,
Surrounded in a paroxysm of natu
By Hannah Liberman Silence slips through the slit under the doorway and
fills the empty spaces of the home; piling up in the corners
And sticking to our skin.
While thin strands of sunshine blend into cluttered walls— Glaring they come, warm they linger, and then, suddenly dull and all used up, they shrivel away coldly. There is a man who walks slowly toward the house,
Some days, he lurches and shrieks, hurtling forward with a rage too immense for its human vessel.