Estrella House Publishing

Where stories glitter like stars

Poetry

  • Daytime

    Oladejo Feranmi Abdullah My father’s sungrew legs,wore a Sunday suitand a honeyed tie.Each room knotted itselfinto arms.Time flies—my eyes returnto that boy in high school,his pockets spilling hands.I spent the nightcounting the names sorrow borebefore it married time.I freeze my mother’s handinto all my minutes.These eyes—still mine—refuse her melting.Below,in the deep trench of nightmares,a root

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  • Copper

    Jennifer Molnar I.Though considered a stable element,when exposed to air for long periods of timecopper takes on a greenish tint. Reactswith oxygen almost as if breathing—II.How do I name this corrosion? What chemicalinterface breaks open the pure/volatileatomic world and seduces electrons looselyspinning in the outer rings of orbit,or else shrugs them off carelessly asa caress

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  • On Building An Assignment at Birth

    Maya Williams I come from the placement of oldest daughter syndrome. I am banshee yelling upon entry into the world. Scaly new skin reaching for comfortin the midst of confusion. The light is too bright for me to open my eyes. I twist mytiny head back and forth as I continue to cry and yell.

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  • Ecedysis // After the Shedding of Skin

    Nnadi Samuel Language is raw persimmon,& the permission of teeth wrapped against its yellowed sweetness.here, I am—jaw ajar before my windowsill, licking a phrase to its seeded white. my gum, redolent with bees, you’d mistake me for a hummingknelt against the tight throat of cloudstretching above a bushy existence that is me without a haircut.in

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  • quest for meaning in the imperial months

    Johanna E. Hall it rained this year on the fourth of julyand while i don’t like reading into things, it was likethe earth had to nourish the scorched earthof what we’ve made here. exceptit was just rain, of course.the other day i found a hair from my lovertangled in my rosary beads.which doesn’t mean anything

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  • Hallucinations

    Qudus Olowo i had a dream of horned vultures singing apala at a bus stop, millions of motorists throwing coins at them as they drive by, purple-skinned children danced to the subtle tune with their legs sprouting out black flowers // in that dream, my ex forgot her last kiss at my apartment // she

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  • Holly Trees

    Grant Moore Under the holly treebough of berries,its siren redtemptation.Where life beganon skinny kneesretching outmy guts.Waxy saw-tooth skin,prickly leaves,the sickly budsof poison seeds.The tangy tongueof Christmasfunerary rites.I spewedthrough chrysalis,entrails slickwith acid grease,thickly drippingafterbirth.Gazed upon byageless tree,received in holycommunion, my firstmemory:The pluming rackof tight blueveinsthat hung aboutmy neck.The womb of blackthat forkedthe branchingEarth.The world that hidin

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