Missing and Murdered
By: Addey Christmann
How I am to pretend that the world
This shell of a home
-Is okay enough to raise our children in
When the streets are lit
Not with electricity and powerlines
That dance across the horizon
But with lights from candles that sway in the breeze Over the loss of another son
The disappearance of another daughter
Whose name will go on a list to be covered with a thousand more Darkness covering the earth we have known
Instead of the light that pours from the laughter
The smiles of the ones we have lost
The girl down the street went missing last week
Police refuse, to act, to care
The family patrol down dark alleys
Traveling hours to scour for the daughter
The sister, the niece, that they know is
Breathing in nothing but the stale flavor of dirt
Whose bones have become naked, only shielded by shrubs
The man across town, his body was found
Tossed in a culvert, hidden from sight
Not much of a condolence, not much healing
When his children consider at the hands of every person they meet And wonder if they are stained with the blood of their father
How I am to pretend that the world
This shell of a home
-Is okay enough to raise our children in?
Flaming Land of Dry Lightning
By: Addey Christmann
The strike of dry lightning sizzles and stings
The flavor of green leaving chlorophyll on my lips
Dripping in the blood of the forest and flora
That decorate the rising mountains and rolling plains
Is wiped out of the land and off of my tongue
Scorching the earth, hot and empty
Deer bound in a hurry over burning bushes
Nimble as they soar with invisible wings
Elk flee through traveled paths and trails
Barrelling their chests through the flaming twigs
Birds flutter in fear, their wings beating
In a rhythm that can be heard from miles away
Bears lope their massive bodies through brush and downed limbs Loud and extreme in what once was their home
What will be left in what was once green and tan and yellow Will be black and brown, soot drowning out the color of what once was there No more flex to the branches, only stiff and begging to break Under the weight of the age they once had
Death is spread across the floor
Of the creatures and their homes, the ones that didn’t make it out But in due time, there will be light
New growth will come
And little sprouts fight their way out to the sunlight
Squirrels create new burrows out of the dead
Rotting trees that lay on the soil
Life is a circle
Death is a circle
The only question is when the dry lightning will strike
Author Bio:
Addey Christmann is an aspiring writer based in Eastern Washington and attending Central Washington University. Drawing inspiration from the desert of Washington and her time outside, she enjoys hunting, reading, and crocheting in her free time. She strives to bring the reader into the landscape of her poetry, and learn more about creative fiction. Previous work can be found in Manastash Volume 35: Spring 2025, “Yee Naaldlooshii” a short story fiction piece.
Navy Pen 