Poetry

Illustration | Jennifer Fong Li I am not asking for much— A kiss on the cheek, a whisper of a secret. Perhaps I am the Devil’s daughter— Lust drunk and excruciating on all dimensions but one. I am demonic with angelic tendencies. I am feather light and pretty—the blue eyed kind. The favourite grandchild, if […]

Illustration | Jennifer Fong Li The ballads boast of my senseless rage, of wailing mothers and tortured breaths, of corpse-littered fields painted crimson red, But the poets never mention you in their songs, my love, you, who held my trembling warrior heart in your hands, you, who would lull away the soldier’s angry wounds and

Haze By Zoe Crepp Illustration | Jennifer Fong Li There’s some kind of mask covering your face, But I can see that bright flush creeping beneath the powder When I tell you where I think we should go.  Those baby doll eyes, all droopy 1930s—   Complete with mascara-darkened lashes, batting themselves at me, And that pouty

Nesting By Sam Rosati Martin Illustration | Jennifer Fong Li Watch my eyes shimmer  —in the ice with you. —I want your song, your singing.    Turn the sun off, tenderize [me], lay your voices  on my stomach.    Feed me branches and twigs— splinters—   I have been abandoned  by an owl who left plastic

GROCERIES By Sophie van Dalen Illustration | Jennifer Fong Li – Kale – Pears – Yoghurt – Bananas – Carrots – Hummus – Rice cakes – Almond butter – Cannellini beans – Trying to remember what it used to be like – Walking down the aisles – With happy hunger – Your hand holding mine –

bittersweet candies By Devarya Singhania Illustration | Jennifer Fong Li there were pit stops which reminded me of a time to escape from the monstrosity of Raman’s futile attacks on the imperfect curvature transcending above my belly, as the few speared marks made their appearance; it’s a circus of my misery translated into fifteen languages

Illustration | Jennifer Fong Li The heartland howls to June bugs’ cries –metallic giants, they chirp and crawlthrough mazes of boxes that grow straight upfrom ground that bears the nests of stone.   Below, the millipede rushes to work,it skids to a stop and opens its mouthsfor clouds of prey that billow and flow,rushing in-out,

Illustration | Jennifer Fong Li Crossing the border between one quintana and the nextWe move from the wild to the obsceneOf private wetlands and forestry, mortar and concreteUp against the golden River of Silver shoreline, a breathing carcinogenIt funnels the borderland between our place and the sun.   There’s a Starbucks now, north of the