Lenore Weiss

Everyone I knew, knew your name, you’d left the country to study in Europe, came home to the Black Liberation Movement, your hair a corona of seeds, refusing to be dismissed.

Cinder blocks framed the sunrise orange as I pushed aside the mosquito netting to greet the jade-green frog who lived beneath the toilet seat, found another stall and grabbed my

The elevator shivered as it climbed the three or maybe four floors to the office, I hurried to the copy editor’s desk where a balding man unwrapped a mid-morning snack,

iridescent with ruffles soaring to my knees coated with colors lined in fabric furry with the softness of willows the toughness of leather

Queen Esmerelda’s lips were luscious red petals and her brown eyes flecked with the sparkle of fireflies. People remarked how she moved with the grace and strength of a dancer,

The close of summer signifies a return to school and the end of vacation. It’s like knowing things are changing, but not being able to do anything about it. For