The theme for March is "Space".


"Sunburnt Stars" by Natalie Wilcox

You loved me like a burning sky

Sizzling through the atmosphere,

Suddenly it began to die.

You had a simple escape

For when the sun burnt black

And you left me in space.

"Luna's Soul" by Madi Walton

The way she wore moonlight
Seemed as though it were made for her
The sun smiled, in awe of Luna’s beauty
The stars blinked,
Watching her carefully
Jealous of the way she shone
And mystical magic grew
As the universe sat and watched
Enchanted by Luna’s soul.

"Black Ocean's Void" by Dylan Gadzala

A transcendental high, the hallucinations of space 

The broken landscape, the static of the stars

Tiny white eyes, never to blink at me, only stare

My brothers and sisters stood before my hands

Anointed with the grace of a black ocean

And within it the time of earth has no effect on me

The farthest from home, but not yet lost

In the court of planets and forgotten Suns

It holds my restless hands, now a tiny part of infinity

Within final seconds, I can hold my breath for space

But space should never hold its breath for me

"Good Morning Spring Moon" by Joshua Passerotti

The dark, whispering, shaded birch trees,
Are so quiet, sound asleep, as if the nymphs within-
Were elven, and the eye-level boughs were the canopies
Of their finely ornamented, elegant gilded beds.
Their luscious green ruffles sigh the coolest of early fog
And oxygen, as if they were both a Maiden of the highest order,
Who holds you up to her petal-soft moonlight cheek,
In a light embrace, but who – with delicate lashes of Cloud-
Streaks, must let go, as the stars call her away, in summons,
To wake the deep reds, pinks, blues hidden underneath, of the
Flowers, for her shop, with the slow-dancing wind chimes in front,
As the sky rises and the lemon tulips shine, rising up to salute to her.
They bow, while she’s pulled back, with the fading constellations.
Her friends Cancer, Scorpio, Hercules, and she, must go to work,
On the vibrant levitation –the gift- of the sun, to pour its intensity-
Into the smooth stone, rutty roads, flora, skin, and dull soil,
Before Noon of Overcoming overrides. Yet even when you go to your
Studies, the Maiden is still in sight, there in the ocean’s swifted
Feathers, and you can wave to her from afar. Then, its visit and lesson
Over, Noon and Sun shall depart, the kinder of the two being the latter,
Who will give a last embrace, as the laughing dusts gather to greet-
And to play, while the reserved crescent earrings of the Maiden ring-
She beams at your skill and new flames and ink- “You’ve learned”
From high up, resting her transparent hand upon the top of your head-
After having strode back from her journeys to lift you up high.
To bring you in a wide swing among your friends, the meteors,
Haley, too, and to call upon hues like watercolor paints.
Like spectrum ice-cream beginning to melt, from your clothes,
Little trousers and t-shirt and scuffled little cap,
To swirl them around in the dance, immerse and form Andromeda 5.
Then, having soaked in the applause, she’ll cautiously take you back,
Right to the house of your other parents, right to your room,
With its stuffed toys and raspy fables. But you cried out,
“No, mommy, don’t let me go!” And she’d hush you, her eyes worried,
Caring as the falling waves you dream so much higher, and black as the
Fear, for your friends the stars had stepped back, gone home,
To let her tuck you in. Yet her eyes are also kind, giving as the other side-
Of the sky, upon which her store blossoms, and certainly lenient.
She’ll pick you up and carry you there, because you said,
“I wanna stay with you, momma, please, please let me stay.”
And the Maiden will slowly lay you in the timid grass, the-
Vixen will curl around you. As you ask for a story, the wild cat-
Will be there to keep your head up, as she sings of sweeping up the ties.
Her pupils now so bright, as her lullaby makes the strong trunk,
And twigs, and eaves glisten. And the queen will stay with you,
Playing the notes longer and quieter as the night and her carry on.
Rotating in the soft breeze, swept effortlessly forth from the-
Ellipsing leaves, by your sea-dazed breathing. She’ll stay,
Even if the rivers bleed, into the ocean that she teaches you to keep.

"Went for a Float 'Round" by Jenny Sedlatschek

We’d floated for days,

with mush and grit on our tongues.

Beeping dials and robot voices,

strapped to the chair, the bunk, the wall.

For a space so open and unclaimed…

not much freedom to come by.

As giants and bulbs drifted past

breaths caught, held,

whispered out again.

The jolt brought relief.

Marshmallow men hopped ‘round.

A lens, a pole, three spoons, and a bucket.

Air bubbles velcroed to bumbling bees

tick until they scurry back –

-- and sound.

The deep dried oceans

take days,

I eyed the little metal dog

as it wheeled by and again,

sniffing out Optimus Prime.

Open gloves, bare palms,

bubbles drained and restocked

near the stiff territory marker.

It fades back to a cookie

as the jungle grants re-entry

and capes deploy.

The men behind dark tints wearing

Morgan Freeman’s suit

gather to give us bracelets and

choke out our air and

don’t offer coffee.

Then one nods and

leaves the room, flicks off

the camera.

I can gulp and swallow now,

on cushions that lack a cord.