The Growing Pains of Love
Seth McBride
Every time I leave, I feel broken
like a child watching the green
nylon tail trail the red balloon
into that abysmal blue hue
glittered with silver cirrus clouds,
expecting my smile to plummet
from the sky, return to my hands,
and follow my father’s suggestion
to curl the ribbony grin around my
wrist, divots in the strand leave their
“Two Old Men” Meghan Vondriska
Teeth marks like little hickies –
Hibiscuses growing beneath a nest
of fluffy thorns spiraling from my
sternum like exponential growth
curves, embedding this swelling
pink idea that our love could be Japanese
Cherry Blossoms – pale petal teacups,
perfume dancing and waving, seducing
the bees with sweet aroma and golden
stamen barstools, but when the breeze
kisses us, ballerinas twirl in blushing skirts
balancing on a single ruby slipper,
while the wind gently lifts them.
The fragile hearts descend into the river
like silky unmelting snowflakes taking
in the memory banks drifting by their
side. When our love reaches the end
of the world, the fall won’t hurt when
it ascends into the vapor plateaus.
“Labyrinth” Cassidy Smith
26
I know one day the cherry petals’ll
wilt away, but you’ve planted
perennial seeds that’ll continue
to grow, even when the breeze
is at bay.