By Millie Graham And hellfire shall rain down upon the land And the people shall burn in fearful anguish. Satan shall rule the souls And rip from them all purity Till all remains the writhing husk Of those who thought to be clean. In the filth of their intention they squirm, Vainly hoping to free from the sulphurous clutches Of the dark prince almighty And the carnal temptations that prevail. Suckle at his breast And taste the malicious ecstasy of evil As it fills your veins

By Alicia Kimberly How old were we—eleven, twelve, thirteen? Just two children kissing behind my garage, between the bee-infested pear tree and the conifer the owl lived in, the grass covered in May morning frost and littered with rabbit ears, limbs, and smells of wild things, rain, and you, pink-cheeked little boy. Our eyes open, wide-green, your white-gold curls dripped Freckles on my nose like a colander of cellentani and your mouth was full of America -c

By Bob W Christian Peace is a liar. It wears a mask of soil and silence, But beneath the garden, something breathes. Not worms. Not rot. Something that remembers my hands. The farmhouse walls groan in tones too close to your voice. At night, I hear footfalls in the hall… Not the echo of my own, But yours, dragging like broken promises. The mirror is the first traitor. Where once I saw resolve, now your grin. Eyes black, glistening with remembered laughter, The kind that came