Issue One - Elena Cruz-Allen
Gravity
children, you must go
she bellows, a heavy push
the hourglass has two grains
left in its waist
scared, they tremble—
you go first, no you go first
they bicker
but there is no resting place
for sand grains,
and their mother’s face is stern;
she does not give in
to the wind
nor to the weight of apples.