I’ll drink from my glass
the same way a red apple
drops onto the ground:
the sound should be deafening.

Ripples in the ground.

I start to freeze as I run in circles.
Ink-stained footprints scatter
to find a place of arrival
and yet everywhere looks the same
because people turn away
from their own shadow.

Not me. My unlicked body
is bound to a ring.
It seethes in its frame
like a pendulum. My drink
too, seethes, flutters in the tightness
of my mouth.
It is deep enough to drown.
I cannot remember how I heard the glass break.
Cannot remember when or how.

I’ll collect the jagged pieces.
Put them in a plastic bag.
Trick myself into thinking
that these too wouldn’t melt
and slip between my fingers.




I remember running in circles against the wind,
Pretending to be a dragon

I remember leaning over a wooden railing
Watching fireworks burst against the sky

I remember looking in a mirror and wishing
I could become a pink crayon


I remember running in circles around the playground,
Chasing and shrieking and tagging my friends

I remember leaning over a wooden railing at a friend’s house
Begging to stay just a few minutes more

I remember looking in a mirror and wishing
I could become someone else


I remember running in circles from class to class,
Struggling against the tide

I remember leaning against a wooden railing
Waiting for fireworks that never came

I remember looking in a mirror and wishing
I could shrink back to kindergarten


I don’t remember the last time I laughed
Until my lungs gasped for air

But I still remember
Scribbled notes on orange post-its
Flicked across a desk

I remember making faces at friends across crowded rooms
And laughing when they finally noticed

And I remember when we ran in circles against the wind
Without a care in the world

I remember when we became dragons.

Adam Zhou has been recognized by the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards in the National Level and his works have appeared or are forthcoming in The Rising Phoenix Review, What Rough Beast, The Kill List Chronicles, Eunoia Review, Blue Marble Review, Glass: A Journal of Poetry, among others. As a high school sophomore at the International School Manila, he has been subject to the wide array of exhibitions cultural perspectives have to offer and aims to share these through writing.

Prisha Mehta is a student at Millburn High School in New Jersey, and she is very passionate about her writing. She aspires to be a successful author one day, and she has won many writing awards, including a Scholastic National Gold Medal. Her work has been published in Spaceports and Spidersilk, Asymmetry, Ginosko, Blue Marble Review, Stinkwaves, Drabble and is forthcoming in Riggwelter, Spelk, Scarlet Leaf Review and Body Without Organs. When she isn’t writing, she can often be found scrolling through psychology articles, sketching in her notebook, or, of course, reading. You can find out more about her at