Issue #3


Clayre Benzadón

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


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


Levy Erwin

Lesbians are not so soft

as the poets would have you


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.

Levy Erwin is a Jewish non-binary lesbian from Brooklyn, New York and a co-editor of Chili's Zine. Their poetry has appeared in Blue Literary Magazine, QA Poetry Journal, and Alter/Altar Vol. I (published by The Operating System).

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.