Volume 41 ~ 2018



McCartney Elliott



I am lost in a maze of confusion,

pounding on a wall of pain.


I can’t escape. I'm trapped

in my mind’s prison.


Save me before it's too late.

Save me before I fall.


Save me before I scar.

Save me before I lay lifeless.


Now I stand by the water

and watch the starlight glisten.


Save me.







A Broken Record


     I don’t remember saying goodbye to my father, but I do remember how he said goodbye to my mother. I was climbing the old oak tree in my backyard when I heard the screen door fling open. Momma glanced out the window toward me with a look telling me to stay where I was. I heard heavy footsteps, slowly stumble toward her. She studied him. My father's faded red lips began to move, but Momma stopped him with her tears. He groaned and took a few swigs of the bottle in hand. When he swallowed, the bruises on his neck moved. After a few minutes of silence, he ignored her tears and began to speak like a broken record. Momma wiped her eyes and said something that made him mad. I don’t know what she said, but it put fire in his eyes. Suddenly I saw my father's fist crash into her left eye.







Flower Child


My feet stumble through the dirt.

I want to stop, but I can’t.

Time will soon catch up.

I will be caught.

I will grow.

I will mature.

I will age.

I run to the flowers,

hiding from the harsh world of adulthood,

and into the innocent field of childhood.







St. Thomas Park

     Barking dogs made me look away from my game of Candy Crush. Where was he? He said he would be here twenty minutes ago, I thought to myself, while sitting on that wooden park bench where we had planned to meet. I soon began to think I should have listened to my gut and not have believed that a man, with his golden brown, silky hair, perfect smile, would ever want to be with me. Am I not good enough? Maybe he will be here soon… or not at all. As tears drip down my face, I continued to ask myself where he was. I texted him but he didn’t answer. Is it my face? Is it my voice? Is it my hair?, I ask myself right before brushing through my hair with my fingers while looking at myself on my screen. Why am I not good enough for you? Why don’t you love me? I want to see you. A tear dripped down my face. Please answer me. I need you. I miss you. After sitting for another ten minutes, I start to grab my stuff to leave. Then I heard a familiar voice. I looked toward the direction it was coming from, but found a strange man in his late forties instead.







When the Lightbulb Buzzed and Flickered Out


It crept out of the hall closet,

up my wall,

and into my room.

I felt it looking at me,

studying me.

It’s questioning,

I could feel it.

Go Away,

I wished.

Except every time

I closed my eyes,

I could see it,