Fast

Virginia Callen

I was fast when I was younger. my little sisters, with littler legs, couldn’t keep up with me when I flew barefooted down the street.

I kept going further, faster, around and around my school’s winding gravel track. I needed to add another mile, another foot charm, to my necklace, to catalog my success.

I didn’t run much anymore, but I was still fast. I didn’t waste time when I came home from school; I rushed to my room to get my homework done now and fast.

I was busy, my mind was, too. thoughts raced through my head so fast but I took time to read a book just for fun, to spend time with people I love, time for me to be slow.

I was dizzy with anxiety. I chronicled a to-do list I couldn’t finish. I couldn’t keep going so fast.

I was tired, so tired, from running, trying to win the never ending rat race.

I stopped. didn’t study for my last exam, didn’t make plans with friends, didn’t get out of bed. I could only go slow.

I tried to go fast again but I wasn’t ready, too tired too anxious. I had to go slow before I could be fast, had to speed back up slowly.

I worked hard to catch up after falling so far behind.

I went slow and noticed what I’d missed; road signs on the highway of my life for attractions I left ignored unexplored.

Now I stopped to visit. I could finally see clearly, without scenery speeding by, the things that matter truly matter to me.

I can be fast again now, driving down a backroad with loud music and loud wind rushing past, racing for myself. but I can be slow too, braking gently and parking so I can stop, sit back, and take in the view for myself.

Headlines

Kelty Jones

second-hand salt air visceral smoke breathing your city-blonde rippling hope forty feet high, forever young arms outstretched in my periphery my faulted frame heeds only to fate and the clutch of its lawless hands sense and sensuality— flickering eyes and warm unreality as your gaze, your compelling intent strips me of my inhibitions i know i will forever be inhabited by you / reframing what i thought i knew see me for my silent trust / and shallow bated breath i am unbound, unforsaken as i hold and awaken your attention memorizing your immortal smile are you real?

Artwork by Adelaide Cook

Sometimes

Jesse Harwood

sometimes i wonder what it’d be like to run away from the world i’m in, to visit the places i’ve never known around Saturn’s rings and amongst the stars … and to chase the edge of the universe forever.

sometimes i wonder what it’d be like to love someone as the planets love the sun, constantly revolving around her ever guided by her celestial glow to be reassured that i do belong, to have a reason to stay.

sometimes i wonder what it’d be like to love myself as openly and confident as the sun, to shine and beam every day without an ill-guided thought in my universe.

sometimes i pity the sun to be constantly chasing her other half, shining only when the other’s light is dimmed— the dark to her light— sometimes i am the sun, always wondering if i’ll ever catch up to the one who’s running to catch me, our heavenly paths charted to never intersect.

sometimes i envy the moon: how i wish i could be as alluring, controlling the tides of the ocean without lifting a finger; even Mother Earth kneels at her feet. sometimes i am the moon coming and fading in cycles, rarely fully there yet constant and always haunted by my dark side.