Box Breathing
Taylor Miskowski
I buried myself in your front yard when you were on your way home from work. While I wait for you, I try to define the difference between eating and breathing dirt. By the time I hear your car, I have already begun to rot. I hear your footsteps and the door slam shut. I am thinking about the difference between death and decomposition.
Cooking With Knives
Taylor Miskowski
Your name in my mouth still tastes like blood. But I can now speak it without choking on it. I can clear my throat without coughing you up. I pour salt in my homemade wounds when you are not looking. I call this cooking. I am healing. Only I believe this.
Girlhood as Sainthood
Taylor Miskowski
My body is not a temple. It is an abandoned church, once a vessel of worship, now forgotten by all but those that God has forgotten himself. I worry I will die unnoticed by God. I worry this is the holiest act I could ever commit.
Ayram Beltrán feels an indestructible bond to the arts and all its relatives. Art helps him go beyond language’s frontiers and find consolation in his lonesomeness. His abilities are mainly in the fields of drawing and sketching. He also loves to read and write primarily in his native language, Spanish. He aspires to be a masterful artist and multilingual person. Ayram says, “When words cannot be expressed, or when words do not exist, art is there to hold your hands and guide you.”
Taylor Miskowski is from Phoenix, Arizona. She writes mainly poetry and creative non-fiction. Her work centers around themes such as mental illness and gender. She hopes to share her work more in the future!
RISE 