Daisy Annie Zhao

DAISY Annie Zhao

We were childhood friends,

poking each other with grimy fi ngers and leap-frogging over the short white pickets separating my home from yours.

My mom didn’t know I went outside at all, “Honey you need vitamin D,” she wasn’t as bright as the sun.

Our little American dream didn’t arrive with the future or expire with the past. Instead it trickled through the cracks in the hourglass, like when we celebrated your birthday for the last time together...

The oblivious daisies in your old front yard beam anyway, until your Uhaul runs them over.

SYCOPHANTS ON VELVET SOFAS

Seerat Sohal

Fear me. I may be adorned in luxuries and exquisiteness, My smile oozing with lies, deceptively coated in sugar and spice and everything nice. Yes, my eyes are a painted dream. Just gaze into them once and you will find yourself lost, floating away in a trance you can never escape. My promises are empty, luring you into fantasies and illusions of anything you could desire. Look past it all and see that I am a sycophant on a velvet sofa, lounging on my makeshift throne. I desire more than the meager things you offer. I desire a crown, coatwed in blood. I desire a throne adorned in blades. I desire a castle, dripping in power. I desire a life full of tension and passion. To seize what I desire, I would gladly do anything. Even be a sycophant on a velvet sofa.