Bryanna Joy

all night we were crossing the ocean
none of us could see
through the dark egg windows
far below us the baleen were
rolling in the deep we
were tired but could not sleep

Clayton Longstaff

That life is but the dream
half remembered,
half made up,

never entirely certain to whom
(or is it to who?)
the question of belonging belongs.

Gavin Bradley

Pink moon chattering brightly
draws me out of hiding,
using the same gentle trick she pulls on the tides.