the bridge-tunnel

i can’t think about you when i’m driving

my foot becomes lead and my hands become light

i worry that my arm will drag the wheel as i go to wipe my eyes

and i will fall right for you





sugar and salt

he was the sugar and i was the salt

we’d eat away sweets until my teeth would rot

he was addicted to the splash of flavor i brought

into his life. that raised his cholesterol (and heartbeat) but looked a little like

MSG or cocaine. i guess in his eyes it was all the same

because more than a dash or pinch could make a person clench their teeth and fists

i had that effect, he didn’t mind one bit. we shared ourselves whole

mixed our molecules into a small bowl until we created one new spice

we played tricks on our taste-for-flavor friends until they gave up

trying to see us as separate grains. we were a single soul with two different names.


south high street

half-drowsy colors forming

eighteen-wheelers that aren’t there

a blend of stop lights and street signs

rough fumes of fog slip through the air


vent. ten-two drifting to seven-five to

six hours passing by faster than … then


second hand thoughts of ill-composed

sentiments, the grass greener on the other


side of white lines and rumble strips the


asphalt rips away at my awareness



Vivian Isabel is a junior at Mary Baldwin University pursuing a degree in English, as well as her Master of Arts in Teaching. She hopes to teach English at her old high school and write a bit on the side. She has previously been published in issues two and five of the White Ash Literary Magazine and volume 8.2 of Outrageous Fortune. The majority of her works are inspired by real events and people in her life. She is optimistically in the progress of writing two anthologies, encompassing her Cambodian-American culture and previous experiences in love.