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You come to me with your hands full of severed hearts,
heels tapping the white linoleum floor,
and lay them on the counter, wipe your fingers on your dress:
so many hearts I can't tell which are yours
and which you've only borrowed. I thank you anyway,
drop them in the blender, mix, open the chute
once used for laundry, pour them in. Below
we hear the slow sound of large things rising, chains
skimming concrete, low breath, lapping tongues.
You listen. You watch the chute drip red.




Zella Christensen is mostly from Wisconsin and studied creative writing at George Mason University. Her poetry has appeared in Star*LineMirror Dance, and elsewhere. She lives online at zellawrites.com.
Current Issue
22 May 2023

IN THE CRUST DIRT IN WILLENDORF CAN YOU BELIEVE THEY FOUND ME I WAS SO CAREFUL TO HIDE
sustenance for body and mind / the plants are telling stories
So much of contemporary Star Trek is about looking at what happens to Utopia when it comes under strain.
If bad wine stays bad, isn’t that a good thing?
In this episode, we air an interview with the reviewer, editor, and critic Niall Harrison.
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