Ryan Habermeyer The Kind of Invisible You Are It was Fat Jim O’Ryan who told the Sunday school girls about the no-nos. He told us about the Russians and Gaylord Perry’s spitball and that widower from Ogden with the alien crop circles in his chest hair, but all we cared about were the no-nos. […]
Read More… from Ryan Habermeyer – The Kind of Invisible You Are
Regan Puckett A Chronology of the Alternate Ways I Wish I’d Lost You 1 We’re arguing in a department store two days before Christmas Eve. Our parents fuss without fire, all stretched-out-sighs and quiet condescension. We argue openly. You choose a plush […]
Read More… from Regan Puckett – A Chronology of the Alternate Ways I Wish I’d Lost You
Isabelle Stillman We Lean to Pick Up the Baby And I think how different we are – how you grew up in a house full of women; lambs’ wool and perfume; how they bullied you in school, calling you girl; Bruce – I’ll remember this boy’s name forever; how whenever he teased you, you […]
Read More… from Isabelle Stillman – We Lean to Pick Up the Baby
Eric Scot Tryon Sitting with Snails A snail the size of her fist sat on Carmen’s left thigh. Marisol balanced hers on her right calf. And as rain fell steadily on Bogotá, it played a tinny beat on the aluminum cover above their heads. It was Sunday afternoon which meant their husbands were off drinking […]
Frances Ogamba My Husband’s Wife Rain fell, rinsing the trees of dust and fowl droppings and swathing the compound with gales of cold. The women sat around a large pot simmering on fire. Their children swept out crannies of the yard with the long broom until the wet clay glimmered in the morning light. […]
Jen Grace Stewart Keeping House Snow and a slice of moon, two planets dotted like a question mark ask: can you still live?Yes—without—even that. But in half-light, filtered through cloud, or milk wrungthrough cloth. A reduction. The clock winds up and ticks out the hours. I keepthe windows clean and the baskets emptied. Running […]
Jennifer Pons Last Supper The pot of red beans and rice burned, scenting the garage apartment with smoke-memory from Orleans Parish, or that backcountry cabin,the andouille and bacon fat smoothing the texture nicely. We talked for the last time. You saidit was all going to be better now. I nodded because my belly had […]
Sonya Lara los guantes blancos When my papí was fourteen fifteen sixteen, a young age when bones break knockout-style, he bound his hands with white wraps, beads of sweat forming a gauzed rosary, & stepped into the ring to fight, […]
Lupita Eyde-Tucker ALAUSÍ 1941 I want to know what she saw that day on the train,tallest man in a land of patuchos What coal-fired sentence picked up enough steam for her to agreeto elope? […]
Nathan Erwin The Chemung River on Midwinter’s Eve Lit like stars, our children’s ashtransmits across the understory. Our kids have moved on, drifted toward war, nodded off in snowbanks, and the lucky few have tumbled out of these hills in half-light. Winter rehabilitation, and if not, Death calls their […]
Read More… from Nathan Erwin -The Chemung River on Midwinter’s Eve
