Three Times to Face the Sky - by Zoe Coyle

A July Melody

by Raga Chilakamarri

Wrinkled sheets, twisted and disregarded at the foot of the bed, swept off in the still heat of a deep summer night, nights when only the fan, whose man-made wind stings sharply through tear ducts, offers some rhythmic solace

The afternoon reigns, stealing transitions from morning, and languidly, unabashedly drones on, suspended, questioning the promised inevitable ticking and turning how summer escapes us

Against the prickling grass, limbs resting upon limbs, we dream in daylight, the sun rays dance across our eyelids, skin radiated, burning. Relief and respite under our shaded haven, and back out again, rolling onto golden patches where green filters from one shade to the next

Music shouting out loud, bursting off our lips or someone else’s, and that brief breath before blue submersion so sudden and welcome: we are what we melt into, licking delicious droplets and then gasping for renewed breath

Lights off, TV on, couches damp under our thighs, crumbs decorate flooring as we mull theorizing heartache into a before and after, laughter and remembering laughter, and again and again and again… photo | Lauren Fischer

by William Zhuang

You love crickets in the summer, How they sing into the world From fern shades unseen. With their tireless twitters Every silence is filled Till loneliness is silenced With no room to echo.

I wanna be your cricket crowd, Hidden behind rustling leaves Through seasons to change,

To practice love in shadows Till you reach my shade, And I’ll be perching ahead Rhapsody in every breath.