Carrie Farrar
Carrie Farrar is a Los Angeles–based poet drawn to the intersection of ritual and rupture. Her work builds through image and restraint, often tracing the body as it moves through memory, instability, and repetition. She has been published in multiple online literary journals and is currently developing a larger body of work.
The following work is Copyright © 2026, and owned by Carrie Farrar and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.
Calibration
the kettle clicks off
before i reach it
steam escaping
in small corrections
i stand there
long enough
to be mistaken for still
cup already warm
from a prior use
i don’t remember
liquid finds its level
faster than i do
i add sugar
watch it disappear
without argument
taste arrives
then retracts
something about this
almost working
something about
the body continuing
as if instructed
elsewhere
Holding Pattern
the sink fills slowly
a controlled overflow
plates submerged
their surfaces erased
i leave the water running
past utility
sound as occupation
my hands enter
then withdraw
enter again
temperature negotiates
what i cannot
the room holds
its version of order
nothing collapses
nothing resolves
just the ongoing
just the suspension
as if stopping
would require
a decision
Akshat Sharma
Akshat Sharma is an immunologist who has long held that an empathetic scientist who can communicate ideas effectively lives in the intersection of art and science. He has, so far, published in The Journal of Immunology, Cell Reports, The Journal of Clinical Investigation Insight, among others of that ilk. He is a cis-gay man of Indian origin with bipolar type 1 disorder. He is based out of Buffalo, New York. His poetry, thus, takes a scientific lens to queer desire and mental health. Admittedly, this piece is about memory and the loss of something that, well, should have been 🙂
The following work is Copyright © 2026, and owned by Akshat Sharma and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.
Buffalo Poem
Bustling between Boston and Buffalo,
Trying to choose a home;
Maria, who drives a taxi:
”You’ll meet, hear me,
The Love of Your Life
Here.
He’ll sweep you off
Your feet.”
“Maria, please!”
“Okay, But I know these things.”
It’s April
And
Two years later.
I walk past Town Ballroom
Hiding from the wind
Jacket up to my nose,
While a version of me
Is mock-fighting
A version of him
As we wait in line.
I stole his beanie.
Snowflakes cling
To his hair.
