Bhooth
The Japanese House, Effie Jia They pick marrow from their teeth With calloused fingers and fish bones Outside because the sweet night air and smoke from the street vendor’s tawa Is only slightly more delicious than warm skin More…
Month: September 2020
Johnny, Satan, and Various Georgias
After the Impact, Sarena Pollock Walking up to the house had been strange, perhaps even suspicious. The building was a two-story monument to the cotton-picking genocide of days supposedly gone past, and the way the sunset had framed it did…
Hide and Seek
Moving Forward, Brittany Lenze The day Summer disappeared, you were at home, feverish and ready for the phone to ring. You’d been waiting for that phone call all morning, hovering moth-like around the old-fashioned landline in the kitchen. Your friends liked…
Who’s this Clown?
All for One, Ella Van Haren “What’s something you like about yourself?” My counselor sat across from me in her office, leaning in so far her brunette bob pitched into her face. She spoke in the high, breezy voice she…
Everything Must Go
Little Architect, Natasha Hirt as is tradition for the women / of my blood, / I shop too much. will sacrifice / a paycheck like a lamb for the chance to conjure up / a fresh silhouette. & I am…
shame is a screen door swinging violently shut
Cellular Hierarchies, Effie Jia i’ve heard about the man who eats boys in the backseat of cars—we all have, learned to fear him, the weeping pustule. i didn’t think i’d come to know him, let alone share his blood— shame…
Ripples
Light and Dark, Grace Long now der’s clothes to wash and suppa to fix the missus want it all done quick she hate my black ass cus when i walk in a room she smell her husband on me she watch…
asexual dysphoria waltz
Disrupted Cannon, Colleen Simmons i wanted to be a slow dancer. then i wanted not to move my body at all. not even a ghost in upbeat funeral dirge should come this close. once, when i ascertained the formula, i…
Vanilla
Pins and Needles, Kamron Williams In 1987, my mommy and papi met through God. My mommy was seventeen, spreading the love of Jesus Christ in Chapopote, a remote village on the Tamesí River in Mexico. My papi was twenty-four and fiercely…
Kaieteur
On the Edge of the Falls, Sarah Moore Some things I’m afraid of: that the burglars have taken the DVD player but not the VCR, climate change, a library book I forgot to return in 2006. I guess it would…
These Sheets and Hollows Are the Truest Things I Know
Comfortable, Jihyea Jang rotten peaches, over ripe plums, splitting along …