By Lisa Ludden
Under sky allow yourself to sink tie an overhand knot strengthen muscles dip down, not too far aged sun purples skin shed to repurpose clip stems for bud vases the silence
the color of mud you know how to surface callous feet to the climb shoulder, back— hold— deepening dusk tuck in lavender soil bloomed scent cuts just enough.
Lisa Ludden lives, writes, and teaches in Northern California. She is the author of the chapbook Palebound (Flutter Press). A finalist for the Tucson Festival of Books Literary Awards, her poems have recently appeared in Natural Bridge, Plath Poetry Project, and Glass: A Journal of Poetry. She is currently at work on her first full-length book of poems.
Leslie Long is a photographer and travel writer, with an equal love for both forms of expression. Always looking for arresting images at home or away, her photographs often illustrate her articles which have appeared in the NY Post, Dallas Morning News, TimeOut NY and many other venues. She’s also created multiple photo essays for Westchester Magazine and has exhibited her photos in both solo and group shows in Westchester and NYC. Leslie lives in Larchmont, NY.