Puff of Smoke

Ascending from her lit cigarette,
forming gray clouds above her head,
filling the tired dragon’s mouth with acrid vapor
spilling out of cherry lips
the soft tendrils of blue-gray swirl upward,
lazy tentacles from some wispy monster waving to passersby.

A sigh lost in the late night noise of the city.

She lights another.
The tentacles become strong and new,
seizing her around the throat.

How hard and lovingly they press.



Jodi Barnes is an undergrad majoring in creative writing. She writes in small blots of disorganized urgency whenever inspiration strikes.



The Bottle

By James Miller / 08/23/2018

Our Souls Refracted Through a Mesh

By Kevin McGowan / 09/10/2018

The Year the Colors Changed

By Siobhan Tebbs / 08/27/2018

Commonly Held Beliefs About Lesbians and Other Commonly Held Beliefs

By Nikki Smith / 09/18/2018

When the Crows Spoke Only Once

By Benjamin Mark / 09/10/2018