
Lighting
Ella b. winters
@ella.b.winters
When you turn
your head to look
at yesterday,
or last week,or the year before,
everything will be
different, soft
vignette edges
glowing Hesperian.
Now you're a white
satin glove, stripped
slowly off a hand
growing out of the wall.
Now you're a knife
slicing into a heart,
soft as butter.
Now you are pouring
gravy on the velvet
seat, bathed in
fluorescent light.
Now the heart's in
the hand, and the knife
is slicing velvet,
and the glove’s full
of gravy under a single
spotlight,
and everything
makes sense
when you get the lighting
right.
Ella B. Winters (she/they) is a social worker, writer, and double immigrant, living on the South-East coast of England with her partner and a sausage dog. Her work often explores themes of identity and locating yourself in the world. She is currently working on her PhD in Health Science. You can find her on Instagram at: @ella.b.winters
hee haw apothecary
crys silden
ushering
spongy
silkening the path of clandestine velvet forests
whispering prophecy of ordinary nonsense
lip’s part with a hoarse whisper
Dorothy!
donkey hair folding the innocent casualties
cradle creaks creaking
Crys Silden writes poetry, personal essays, short stories and random notes. Crys has been published in Horror Sleaze Trash, Dadakuku, Don’t Submit, In Parentheses, Versification, and Stink Eye. Crys lives in Toronto, Canada.
trix
Edward McLaughlin
@lastsundown_poetry
(give me your hand
hold your breath)
we could have held hands
jumped off the bridge
you called me silly
i called you predictable
you’re afraid we’ll drown
i’m afraid we’ll float
we’ll just compromise
and keep walking
get coffee at 3AM
at the diner down the street
from our favorite cat
you feed her Cheerios
but her name is Trix
or i call her that to make you laugh
Edward McLaughlin is a Philly native, working and writing in Los Angeles. He tries his best to see the good in those whose shadows interfere with his own and see beauty in everyday occurrences that often go unnoticed. He’s been writing poetry for over 30 years. He has no clue what’s going on, and accepts that happily.
IG: @lastsundown_poetry