BY DEANNA NGUYEN

Winds of a moon-soaked night,
carry her voice
as gentle as the caresses
of a mother cradling
her newborn child.

BY JANICE PEREGRINA

peer in, look through the porthole
at the ocean, vast as sin
the silent siren rises
from the black within

BY REBECCA CARLYLE

The fire crackled and hissed at her from across the room, the orange light flickering upon the stone walls. She arrived late in the evening a week ago; it was too dark to take in her surroundings. A friend of hers had asked her to look after their cousin’s cabin for two weeks, and she jumped at the opportunity to get out of town—a break from the hustle and bustle of city life was much needed.

You know that phrase “It’s a man’s world?” Oh, yeah—I hate it too—but it was kind of the case in ancient patriarchal societies, especially in ancient Greece.

At one time or another, mythological stories were considered scripture—when did that differentiation arise? When does a culture’s religion become another’s myth?