Top Hits


An image at a record store, showing the tops of the records stacked together and a person in the background going through them.

He hides lifetimes in his pockets and I rifle through the top hits.


The flicker of old movie reels

I spot two lovers dancing and overacting.

Toothy grins and drawn out sighs.

They’ve known each other a long time. I feel their pulses beneath my feet.

Kick lines, balconies, and red lipstick.

Suddenly, I know the steps.

The sky flips.


You buy me a cherry slushie at the drive-in.

I’ve never seen you in a leather jacket until now.

It suits you.

The blacks of witching hour sit around your shoulders I save the change in my pocket for when I’ll meet you next.

The sky flips.


I crawl through the mirror made of moon

As I taste your name, I can see why the stars scheme to mimic you.

The marks of his freckles become a roadmap of the galaxy’s hidden diners.

His fingertips throb with the souls of starlit travelers.

I claw through light years just to taste a drop of him.

My lover howled like earth was his own and bled into space.

White static made of pearls fills my vision,

then a warm low voice soaks over my shoulders.

The sky flips.


I’m driving on the interstate and there’s a Coca-Cola truck in front of me.

Its backdoors slam open, soaking me in a chorus of black rivers.

I lick my lips and search for you in the loitering sap.

A life raft slips over my neck and makes its way to my hips.

The sky flips.


Paintings made by summer’s strokes blend into riverbeds.

I chase after a flutter of freckles.

I realized I am the wind pounding out of the drumming earth.

The sky flips.


Melted sun swells on the tip of my tongue,

but I swallow too soon.

As I grasp at the palaces outside of midnight’s hollow,

I climbed into holes the sun has poked its flames through.

The sky flips.


In a church pew the preacher’s voice echoes.

What is God’s favorite color? Green, I say in the same beat, as if an answer key is written on my palm.

I’m guided by dawn’s tap dancing.

The trumpets sound as I reach the study tree.

Brimming with greenery. I recognize you.

The sky holds steady.



An image of Kelli Lage, a person with long brown hair raising a hand to her ear and smiling.

Kelli Lage lives in the Midwest countryside. Lage is currently earning her degree in Secondary English Education and works as a substitute teacher. Awards: Special Award for First-time Entrant, Lyrical Iowa.