by Lunchbox Editor | Dec 5, 2024
Persephone what we had was our hands, peeling back the wiry waxy flesh of pomegranates, saving the fruit and seeds — when we weren’t sneaking bites and glances — for later. it all became so habitual, the way you already knew what had been at my center, and showing as...
by Lunchbox Editor | Dec 5, 2024
Fall Ivy there are words that grow in misery from corners in your throat from music in your guts. i have wrapped and coiled as best i could around starlit nights when stone fruits and wax shells overwhelmed the defenses stormed the gates and laid bare the jagged...
by Lunchbox Editor | Dec 5, 2024
half eaten peach: a hidden ancient mollusk mind, with heaps and full hands of flesh, meat, veins, and blood. bruised and lumpy from all those before me who wanted to know if you were ready and yet checking did much damage — your skin rough with dust buried under your...
by Lunchbox Editor | Dec 5, 2024
When the rain comes, It means the storm is over The feeling bubbled over Uncages all my pride. The motions tide by tide Engulf me side to side And all I feel is gratitude and empathy for life. A buzz, the cup is reaching It’s fullest as it’s peaking –The water...
by Lunchbox Editor | Dec 5, 2024
What will become of me if i forget what you have done? Who am i if not a hastily bundled cluster of responses Of reactions to the circumstances pierced into my identity like a dagger to the flesh Leaving a gaping wound no surgery could ever removed Scars littered...
