Session One Anthology


won't you celebrate with me

Emily Bang

after lucille clifton

mom says i’m bird boned
collarbones thrust like wings
peeking over big coats and sweaters supposed to hide
curves that draw and surprise
my own body i know i should love always felt too small too soft
to shout or plant or turn away

i told you my favorite trees are redwoods
when a grandma tree dies
babies shoot up in a circle from her roots
you laughed
but i know my height
i stand on the shoulders of giants to see far
some afternoon we tossed a frisbee and i sprinted past
stretched my hand caught the pass
you laughed and said you get it
how those towering trunks shoot through my spine

today the sun hangs and squints through wisps
sixty-six degrees, he made it
we sprawl up from the couch and kick off our slippers
walk a block down the street
run down the steps
knees bobbing in quick time
straight yelling into the pacific
golden kelp forests swirl scratch our belly
seawater numbs and sprays
when big waves crash over us frothing we dive deep
let our toes uncurl from the rocks
i’m just in my sports bra
feeling good feeling great
i feel the sun browning my shoulders
and mom’s freckles on my cheeks
kelp twists round my hips waves in my hair
to the little houses and palms
peeking high over the cliff


Emily Bang was born in California and grew up in the land of oak. Her first experience writing was an attempt at survival - she was about the ripe age of three and a half and on the run from a motorcycle gang. When she was thirteen, she discovered how she wanted to use her writing - she was going to make millions as the lead singer/songwriter of a punk/emo band. She performed her first single, “Splinter Fountains,” at the school talent show and received rave reviews. Throughout high school, she continued to write songs. Her college statement was a variation on one of her songs, “Four years, your fears”.



Jake Matkov

So often I think – my life as arpeggios – Within
gaps rise a crescendo I fumble – forward into B.’s
touch reminds my body – of hummingbirds their flight –
Movement – he enters my body – does not like that
which comes out – inside me the music set
to his watch – I have held onto far too long –
The postcard I write – no sound ruptures what light
floods slanted – downwards the bed – He says nothing
I am – will ever whisper beautiful in his ears –
Still – He steeps our days – in blues & greens
where I wade myself – violet flowers freckle
the riverside – All is alive around me I feel –
no death – I show B. the wind – He tells me to not
make a big deal –

Jake Matkov writes poetry in Brooklyn, NY. His poems have been published in fields magazine, voicemail poems, Maudlin House, thosethatthis, and others. A 2015-16 Queer/Art/Mentorship fellow, he is currently at work on a manuscript of poems examining trauma and memory and a long poem exploring shame, silence, disease, queerness, and his body.


Watching the Wagah Closing Ceremony

Preeti Kaur Rajpal