Artwork

Freedom , Digital Art by Mackenzie Guzek

Poem by Mackenzie Guzek

Had Monet leaned to me and softly spoke “Would they prefer the artist or his work?” I’d laugh and grasp his color stainèd hands And shake my head in empathy and ruth.

“Who on this earth of lucid mind and heart would merely glance at finished frames Instead of watching paintings brought by hands to life when the opportunity to learn pertains?

And what’s derived from moments here in light of meanings left beyond their surface Unattainable by initial sight but so when given time to find purpose?

In this the irony of time is present charted And I, well, I would choose the artist.”

Efflorescence

Digital Art by Mary K. Maturo

CIRCA

Poem by Mary K. Maturo

Pacman is made of lemon meringues. Spot me a quarter for Glenn Miller. Mama found out I cut my own bangs. Am I longing for a home I’ve never seen?

Summer reading champion of ten years. Leaning on a Styrofoam pillar. Entrechats only lead to tears. When did I stop fearing the saline?

There was hard bubble gum on September asphalt. I had a crush on Ben Stiller. With the milk carton easter eggs made of malt, Saccharine memories disappear at fourteen.

Mitsuha

Digital Art by Mackenzie Guzek

Drawing by Ali Ibrahim

The Decorated Lion

THE CALL

Nonfiction by Maricela Clemente

Life is full of ups and downs that we all must deal with; however, death is never easy, especially when it is someone we dearly love. I will never forget the heartache I endured at the loss of my only brother. Before I get ahead of myself, I’d like to share who my brother Willy was. He had a loving and caring soul who would brighten any room. He was the type of person to start a conversation with a total stranger and make them feel safe.

Willy was always ready to lend me a hand any time I needed it. His unconditional love and support extended beyond his family. He was a sharp dresser and every time he attended a get-together with friends he would always ask us, “How do I look?” He would turn around, allowing us to see his clothing at every angle and make sure we noticed how nice he looked in his cowboy boots and black vest. Oh, and how can I forget, the rubbing of his chest against our noses, so we could get a sniff of how pleasant he smelled. Maybe his warm scent is what hypnotized people to love him so much, not only by family but by any stranger. Every year in November my husband and I, along with our two children, had a tradition to travel to Mexico for the patriotic festivities con-

COMING UP FOR AIR

Nonfiction by Grace Perreira

My hand trembled as I reached Beauty had never been enough for me. I wantfor my bottle of shampoo. I had ed to be intelligent and powerful, yet graceful never taken my shampoo out of and kind. I wanted to be so many things before his bathroom. Why was I reach- I was only concerned with being his. I knew he ing for it now? Why did I want was possessive, and it never bothered me, but to take such a permanent part of myself out of I never realized he wanted to possess my entire his bathroom? I watched my hand hesitate and being, mind, body, and soul. On the morning of shake before the vibrant purple tones of the March 1st, 2020, I was getting ready to leave his bottle as I felt hot streams of liquid begin to roll apartment for work when I saw my shampoo botdown my cheeks. My throat closed in and my tle perched on the corner of the bathtub in the eyes were burning with tears. I’m not sure how mirror. long I stayed there, on the floor of his bathroom. I turned around without a second thought and I just know I was taken out reached for the bottle to of my trace when I heard put in my bag. For a girl his footsteps coming up with very long, curly, and the stairs, towards me. He color-treated hair, this found me crying on the was a significant event. bathroom floor, cradling Taking my shampoo out the half-empty bottle like of his shower meant I was a wounded animal. We not planning on coming looked at each other and back. He was my best instantly knew our life to- friend, the man I wanted gether was finished. to marry, the person I had

Falling in love with him chosen to share my enwas like sinking to the tire life with. Why would bottom of the ocean. Be- I second-guess a relaing in his presence was tionship that seemed so like slowly surrendering strong? to the warm embrace of He had a heart of gold the waves. Most people with just a hint of darkthink the sensation of ness that only I could drowning is terrifying, but see. It was addicting. The I had never felt more at peace. The weightlessness was so intoxicating Self Portrait Mixed Media by Catherine Umholtz darkness drew me in and convinced me that I was the only cure, that I was that I didn’t even notice the only way he could be my lungs screaming for air. I was surrounded by whole again. I fell for the darkness harder than I’d his warmth and beauty. ever fallen for anything before, and it consumed

It would’ve been so easy to drown in him. He the both of us. Consumption really is the best was not the kind of beautiful that you see in pic- term for it. Everything in my life began to slowtures, but the kind that made you feel beautiful ly revolve around him. Every single decision I just by being near him. He taught me the pain made completely catered to him. The smell of his of crushing suffocation by beautiful things, like sheets became my drug, his company my only waves of emerald honey or the love of a broken comfort, his touch the only grace I’d come to acboy. cept. Sometimes his touch would bring blood

Inflorescence

Digital Art by Mary K. Maturo

Bruno, Painting by Catherine Umholtz

Painting by Victoria Robinson

Beyond

Whale

Digital Art by Mackenzie Guzek