Through The Heart By A. P.

Issue 8

my dishonest soul & I run to you
wicked bone of mine
marooned goddess
I don’t know how long you can survive
the unbecoming of the glass castle
we hide this haunted
out of my sight in the woods of dreams
where I cage the good
we, the animals
we, sea
unstitched among strangers
never pure enough to drown
something beastly
to rest


Source: Various Book Titles

Editor’s Note: You can see A. P.’s artwork for this poem here.

A. P.  is originally from Bucharest, but lives in Stuttgart, Germany. Her work appears in Severine, Watershed Review and Glass: A Journal of Poetry, among others.

I Lost My Phone by A. P.

Issue 1

I lost my phone and phone case. I feel like girls when they can’t find their underwear after sex everything is suddenly a fantastic kind of fatigue if someone looked through the music, they’d definitely think I’m a woman I could cry lol my bananas are frozen. I’m just going to eat more chocolate then I caught my cat taking a selfie I was going to tweet about it but then realized I lost my phone Nick puked in McDonald’s, we got separated and I’m still drunk any pictures I post of China are someone else’s from the trip I legit feel like I lost all the blood from my head. SO SCARY you found me in the corner all depressed I lost my sex buddy forever, my driver’s license in one night surprisingly only one of those things happened at Wal-Mart I’m pretty sure it fell on the octopus my purse and I woke up on the roof thank God I sent the pic to my hubby my best friend and my life ;( May Whatsapp groups live long and prosper without me now I have a ghetto el Salvador metro phone I found it in my fridge I feel it’s a pretty accurate portrayal of my life I have third degree burns on my tummy from spilled tea please cuddle me I have lost my identity I emerged from the ashes as a changed person it was in my hand the whole time.

Source Text: Twitter

A. P.  is a translator, writer and visual artist living in Switzerland. Most recently, she has contributed works to Cactus Heart Journal, Lumina Journal, Citron Review and Drunk Monkeys. When she isn’t working or pursuing creative endeavors, Ana volunteers for animal charities, practices yoga and serves as a poetry reader for the online journal Fruita Pulp.