Gnashing Teeth Publishing

| words that get in your teeth

On Not Speaking Up by Mycah Miller

A man,
of course, it is always a
man, once told
a child, a boy, I was

to stop being
distracted by my breasts.
The boy, the child,

but this isn’t
good enough for

I cannot
be teacher
and woman at the same
time. I will always

be reminded
which is worth
The boy will either

or be taught
and I am just
the lesson. I

am so
sorry that I
apologized then
for being (or not

a distraction. I failed
an essential test.
The man will teach

more lessons;
I will not
be another.
I think of the boy

and hope,
he’ll forget
what men

say matters.
I will do
better next time.


ycah Miller is a Santa Cruz, CA-based queer poet, artist, and student, and was a member of the 2018 Legendary Collective Slam Team, the winners of the 2018 Southwest Shootout held in Albuquerque. She currently attends SJSU as an English major. She creates art as an escape from and commentary on the outside world in a continuous attempt to both understand and connect with others. In her free time, she can be found not writing enough, drinking tea, and riding her motorcycle(s). Her work has been featured by Vagabond City Lit, the Berkeley Poetry Slam, and Central Coast Poetry shows, among others. It is a protest, a love letter, and a canvas she has weaved herself thoroughly into. She can be contacted through her facebook page “Mycah Miller Art,” Instagram @MycahMillerArt, or emailed at

black and white photo of woman in black clothes with her back to the camera, wearing a white knit cap standing in the snow in front of trees

Feijoa Dreams by Ana Martinez

Things that didn’t stop the car bomb from going off near my grandmother’s house: A gentle childhood nestled with tucked-in nightly prayers and teddy bear kisses, framed by high ceiling

close up of woman wearing glasses with red listick and straight blond hair with a grey shirt

When Did I Know? by Maple Scoresby

As long as I can remember, every star that shot across the sky, every birthday candle I blew out, came with the silent wish that I would wake the next

crow in flight

The Crows Remember by Alex Grehy

My grandfather once shot a crow for the simple crime of stealing peas – he hung the body from the canes as a warning to the others. Already dressed in


we love hearing from you. tell us everything

Skip to content