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    Issue #3

    Lunacy

    Clayre Benzadon


    Women, ward off delirium

    by tying a skull around your belt.


    Then remember to place the lunacy

    in your hands. Under the gums.


    Acrid hallucinations will smile at you,

    the braincase a protection against Styx.


    Phoebe, shining Titan, fell just

    like that without it, from Nyx.


    Night is a frantic cavity

    where warriors marked star


    god Coyolxauhqui mad, cut

    off her limbs, tossed her head


    into the heavens so that she could

    become full again, her face a crescent


    painted with bells, and eagles

    flying down her hair.


    Claws scraped her scalp bare

    until her head tore open, her


    cranium crowned.

    Mother Coatlicue consumed


    herself watching this, died from

    insatiable insanity.


    After, her belly miraculously fell

    with a blessing, hummingbird


    feathers balled up, violently

    jammed, born into her chest,


    the same way

    month-sickness


    collects into umbral

    bales, filled with lune,


    convex diurnality,

    moon sick with the missed


    cycle of Venus’ own

    hormonal rhythm.


    Women, it is not enough

    to wish, to crack with demand.


    Instead, surrender. Pray to reach

    a blue god, maybe Vishnu.


    Then settle, with the atmosphere

    melting away in fantastic ablation.


    Clayre Benzadón is currently a second-year MFA student at the University of Miami and Broadsided Press’s Instagram editor. She has been published by The Acentos Review, SERIAL magazine, Herstry, is forthcoming in Poetry Breakfast, and was recently awarded the 2019 Alfred Boas Poetry Prize for her poem "Linguistic Rewilding".


    Find her on Twitter @ClayreBenz, Instagram @clayrebenz, or Facebook






    Rough

    Becca Erwin


    Lesbians are not so soft

    as the poets would have you

    believe


    the first time a lover told me

    in all honesty

    what I tasted like

    I was so upset

    I cried as if

    they tasted of strawberries

    and not

    dried seaweed.


    One night

    you tasted bitter

    and I drank you for hours


    we fucked all night

    pounding and pounding

    until blue and hurting

    and only stopped

    when our wrists were numb


    and I thought,


    That is resilience.


    Becca Erwin is a Jewish non-binary lesbian from Brooklyn, New York. They are an activist, poet, and pastrami connoisseur who works in non-profit development and has a BA in Medieval Studies from Fordham University. They are a co-editor of the forthcoming zine Chili’s No. 1. You can follow them on Twitter @yungtiredd and Instagram @beccaerwin for updates.






    firegarden (for frida kahlo)

    Mia Wright



    Mia Wright is an Oklahoma native, single parent, and seer. Her poems have appeared in This Land, Word Riot, The Girl God, Watershed, and some restaurant napkins. Wright was a finalist for the 2004 Grolier Poetry Prize and earned an MFA in Poetry from Boise State University.

    Read more of her work on her blog or find her on Instagram and Twitter.