by Elizabeth Lewis they built the bridges out of stones and other things made for staying in one place, and the people loved them so dearly that they wore them…

by Rachel Reed I. Jews don’t hold open caskets but for the back of the funeral home, family only. So much of our sorrow is in history books, we afford…

by Alison Taverna My mother vanishes from dinner parties: card nights with the neighbors; Budweiser, burgers, tortellini salad. The guests cross lawns like sidewalks, smell of sunscreen, our front door…

by Shannon Ward It presses its eye to the keyhole and peers out of the darkness, insolent and persistent, until I sigh and turn the handle. Once free, it scampers…

by Robin Schweitzer This can’t be music, it’s too raw writhing heads of peroxide, heads of midnight bobbing in unison to melodies obscured.

by Elise Zavadak He was a man of color, one with pride in the face of discrimination by race, religion, every detail of ethnicity mocking his being, his entirety. They…

by Courtney Druzak I came first, fully grown, when Leto gave birth. I knew only to turn and catch him in my open palms, to clear bloody residue from nose…

by Onastasia Youssef In April of 1991 in San Francisco, California—       cartoon poster and ticket stubs.                          …

by Elizabeth Lewis “The best way to get over a woman is to turn her into literature” —Henry Miller i mixed the ink of your eyes, and you can’t imagine…

by Kenzie Saunders The ground stops shaking and the crashing stops, leaving the world in deafening silence. Navigating the strewn bits of wood and crumbled stone remains, weak daylight can…