By Sydney Lee
My thumb like an oyster—
flaps of pale skin swollen, turgid,
outgrows its ingrown shell.
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By Sydney Lee
My loss of reign over bodies,
running soldier, an everyman’s feet
slips away into rigid night—
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By Ally Huang
Under the sea doesn’t sound like under
the sea. There is no red lobster singing,
no seaweed dancing, no ukulele
strumming. But do schools of fish
create waves of sound as they bubble
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By Alina Y Liu
You take me between your lips and hold
me there, quivering, on the brink of splitting
down the seams. I blush orange, the color of
the sunset over the ocean, green as algae, kelp
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