Upwelling
by Caitlin M.S. Buxbaum
art by Shannon Fleck

Luminous in its loneliness, a wolf howls into the corrupted darkness, shining with the collision of ionic particles in the atmosphere—on the other side of the forest, a cottage glows with as much light, isolation equally felt. But the night sea swells and laps at the nearby shore, longs to flood the fisherman’s windows, feel the ripple of his song against her waves. Home is as much the roof, the walls, the door, as the sky, the wind, the trees. Perhaps the wolf is the man, the sea a blanket of stars, ever within sight, yet out of reach. Though dawn comes quietly, just like dusk, day never breaks the connections Love makes—the heart always finds a way.

 

 

Infinity Pool
by Corin Michael Mellone
art by Emily Campau 

They both could see the city from the infinity pool but it looked much darker to him than  it should. They had been sitting in the water together for some time and he had watched the lights go out one by one. She did not notice.
“It’s so cool, right?” She was pointing at the pool lip where the water spilled over and disappeared. He said he guessed so. She swam over to the edge. The sky was almost black and it was hard to see her silhouette against the skyline’s.
Within minutes night had fallen and he could not see her or the city or the sky. Only the dull blue light of the infinity pool that seemed to spill into nothing. He decided it wasn’t so cool. He didn’t see the point of infinity if it led to nowhere.

 

 

From the Basilica del Voto Nacional, Quito, Ecuador
by Callie Dean
art by Linda Perkins

No gargoyles here. Guess those little gothic grotesques couldn’t handle the altitude. Instead, the local fauna stand, stoic—a row of chiseled iguanas and condors and tortoises—protecting the parapets like loyal sentries at their stations. Is this a consolation prize, some relegation to the rooftops, the closest they’ll ever come to crossing the threshold of a church? But, oh, the tortoises! Each one a cathedral unto itself, bearing the weight of centuries in the stonework of its scutes. Each domed shell pointing toward the heavens, as worthy an offering as Michelangelo’s.

 

 

Reckoning
by Beatrice Lazarus

Do you remember our old shuttered,
dilapidated house, in the dazzle of the sun,
like a soul garbed in light,
always looking for someone
and something to love?
The night deep black, without sound,
without song, with one bright star,
its white flame, glaring forgivingly at us,
reaching in all directions.

 

 

Like Magic
by Deb Werrlein

She dumps happy sloppy puffs of flour and cracks the eggs (alone!) before we pick out the shells together and add fertile creamy froth, like magic, of yeast in milk while trading turns at gathering the globular blob turned out under four tangled hands that stretch fold turn and stretch fold turn with alternating beaming pride and (by myself!) furrowed concentration until we raise it up, newborn and heavy and warm and powdered and almost breathing and already growing to rest in cradle of open palms.

 

 

Estranged
by Julie Elise Landry
art by the author

The desire I aim in your direction—
an arrow screaming soundless

Wet hair waiting pajamaed,
held breath and held hopes

 

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Caitlin M.S. Buxbaum is a writer and teacher from Wasilla, Alaska. She runs Red Sweater Press and studies poetry and screenwriting at Antioch University L.A. Read more about her and her work at caitbuxbaum.com.

 

Corin Michael Mellone is a guy from New Jersey. When he’s not writing he’s reading, and when he’s not reading he’s bartending to make enough money to get back to writing. And buy Oreos.

 

Callie Dean is a writer, researcher, and musician living in Shreveport, LA. Her essays have appeared atCoffee + Crumbs,and her first picture book will be published in 2026. Find her online at calliebdean.com.

 

A Pushcart Prize nominee, Beatrice Lazarus’s poetry has appeared in Valparaiso, Water-Stone Review, The MacGuffin, Sierra Nevada Review, Briar Cliff Review, The Lyric, Sou’wester, and elsewhere. Recipient of the Briar Cliff Review Poetry Prize, Beatrice is the editor of Lay Bare the Canvas: New England Poets on Art, and The Loft Anthology.

 

Deb Werrlein is a writer/editor living and bicycling in Northern VA. Her work has appeared in Brevity, Creative Nonfiction, The Los Angeles Review, Unbroken, and others. Find her on BlueSky @debwerrlein and www.debwerrlein.com.

 

Julie Elise Landry is a New Orleans poet with work in diode poetry journal, Backchannels Journal, and elsewhere. She serves as Associate Poetry Editor of Bayou Magazine.