Poetry Feature: nothing hurts more than a candle loving the sun by Jess Roses

soft wax sharp wick, eterna-lit
     my crayon melt candle rainbow
          my craving metal cage ache
                my great mess on the floor of the bedroom

what can i say, noah opened the closet door and 40 days and 40 nights of tears flowed out of me all at once. is this the gods, finally, speaking to me? is the pain big enough yet, for the gods to see it? how much hot air can fill this balloon before it bursts and all my bubbles with it: compartmentalization in the fragile iridescences that abound around me like the pearl glow of the moon on an almost cloudy night. please, the thin layer of soap film is all that holds me, i couldn’t take

the bursting
and still be her. no one is ready for it.
everything matters.

i wish you could watch me become. i hope you hear what i would say, if i could
say it, i hope it faces the fear in you;
through the radio waves
and the stories i tell, the messages
in the bottle

are true
and so often,
they are for
you. 

 

 

Poetry Feature: True Crime by the Campfire by Bryce Johle

We discuss past lives,
their roles in our currents,

children, pets, and nuptials, or
don’t speak at all. 

When we’re silent, we nurture ourselves
with fake sausages, kneading our minds, our eyes

on the tongues and coals.
Someone narrates pedophilia in their family

and the light whips sickles on our faces,
beating time and rain wind in the pores

and choking off the fresh air, peace.
Crows land on our tent in the morning—

we wake up wondering how God’s souls are recycled,
how they could take nature’s calling for creation and

turn themselves into dark artists with talons, 
cawing lies about their sins from the rooftops. 

I can still feel the coals as lozenges burning speech,
sautéing our tongues in our mouths.

Bryce Johle is from Williamsport, PA and earned a B.A. in professional writing from Kutztown University of Pennsylvania. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Parentheses Journal, Litbreak Magazine, Eunoia Review, Literary Yard, October Hill Magazine, and Maudlin House, among others. He lives in Pittsburgh with his wife and stepdaughter.