Prose Poem

Assistant Editor Blessing Christopher: The past, present, and future coalesce in today’s micro, resulting in a prose poem that makes tangible a quiet but insistent sense of longing. Listen to Whitney Waters read the piece: Letter to the Daughter I Don’t Have [Celestial] If it’s true that time is infinite, then somewhere you exist. I wonder all …

Clear. Nuclear. Like the Visible Woman in her plexiglass-clear skin once lied to me I wouldn’t grow to be. One button for her heart to light up red. One for the nervy, branching rivers in her head.