• By Caden Luke (he/they)
  • Art “Parlor Room” by Ellie Aquilanti (she/her)
You and I, once both
  alive and indifferent
In different times
and places
                in space
righteous debtors’
  caustic words
   hurled alongside
         shards of verse,
           We stand proud.
                By grace of a God
           that resides
       in volumes as yet unturned,
    the sharp words they lob
trim my shapely form.
We stand in truth
                 on the backs
                   of greater beasts
                                  than time
                                   or you and I.
We are but arms
for the same Universal impulse:
to portray a world all its own
  Where days bleed from the page,
       visceral and crimson as
             petals that weep
              odorous perfume.
A love defined by taste refined:
grit plucked from well-heeled boots
and swished to a nacreous lustre.
               We remain caught in the
Mired in admiration
of that which demands
no such response,
we must compose ourselves.
In our differences,
We still don
          refined vestures
                         the same.
Enveloped by textures 
                     in parlors,
                    We look inside.
  We imbibe
          this wisdom divine
  and inscribe
our consecrated thoughts:
Divine orders to create.
To create beauty;
    or just create.