At night I plug holes in the universe, extend metaphorical arms to the sky, massage the night feeling for rough spots and tiny holes the eye cannot see but the heart knows are there, the quiet hiss of leaking love a dead giveaway. At night I plug holes in the universe.
I Am My Dead Sister
Is this who I am now, my dead sister? Living, you annoyed me. You were quiet and boring. You only half lived, your head in books, with fantasy lovers, all the while loyal to a man too real, too base. You were passive; a dreamer. You waited for life to happen. You believed it would, but it didn’t. It ended.
This is who I am, my dead sister. I feel the quiet of you. I feel you. I feel your words, spoken to me in a dream, If I’d known death was going to be like this, I wouldn’t have fought so hard. If you had known life could have been like this, would you have fought harder, to be alive, while you were?
Lucy Gregg Muir is a middle school English teacher who finds time to write when she's not beating her students with a stick for splitting infinitives, or chasing one daughter out of tattoo emporiums and the other away from absurd My Little Pony videos.
Martina Kranz is a mother, grandmother, veteran and library assistant living in Minot, North Dakota who aspires to become an excellent writer who people want to read.
Steven Winters is a current student at Auburn University, and is working towards a dual degree in Molecular and Cellular Microbial Biology and English Creative Writing.
Brian Anthony Thornton is a Savannah, GA based writer of short fiction whose work has been published in Audience, Neonbeam, and ekakshara.