Andromeda   The chains were sliced away before he whisked me off. Why, then, are they back on my wrists, cruel stars?   Nanakusa   Porridge erasing sins, a soothing sludge sliding through my body's crowded temple. Sun. Soon.

Return to the front page of this issue:   Amaze   Vol. 7, No. 1   Go to the Poets & Authors page for the poet's biographical sketch and email link. All poems are copyright © 2009 by their respective authors.