by Narmadhaa Sivaraja (N) Have you ever washed a coffee plunger? The jug is the easy part. The filter, however, is a wet mess of clingy dregs that’ve made their way into the tiniest of pores, overstaying their welcome like guests who’d muddied your carpets, who’d forgotten what cleanup meant, or how to spot the puddles of molten wax on Read More
Author: Andre
in a Jacksonville hotel
by Haley Morgan McKinnon this morning I wake up and I am strongerthere is sunlight through the window and I open my mouth to drink itmay it turn into new breath in my lungs I fluff the pillows that I almost tore apart last night in the grip of my grief like a snakeclutching the life from its prey except Read More
Uncle
by Ross Jeffery The carpet’s rough. Its bristly nibs bite into my skin. Can’t breathe, my father splayed out on top of me, his full weight baring down, choking the oxygen from my lungs. Muscles burn, cramp throttles my calf, a snake coiling around a tree trunk. But still he pushes me to the carpet. Sweat covers us. We are Read More
Mujer y Mono (Woman and Monkey)
by Elisabeth Horan 1938 Nothing should end this violently:Baby monkeys slide in and out Of their madres – like the slippery pea podsSo gently – The wind sabe como tocar (the wind knows how to touch)A woman’s cheeks As if they could break her openHack easily at the insides of a body So permanently destroy her –But they do not. Read More
Squirrels
by B F Jones Squirrels. Rendered malevolent by the distortion of a cubist dream. A murky forest, somewhat tilted, humidity emanating from the ground, dark trees towering above. And the squirrels. Their rustling. Their twitchy accusing stare, ridding me of sleep. Night after night, trying to understand the sudden fear, trying to remember. – Those squirrels, do they do Read More
Hole in Chest with Arrow
by Elisabeth Horan 1937 Life is something I had with youIt doesn’t matter which ulcer you choose Her or meMe or herLove or agonyMy body becomesa trash yard Pero mírala – Floreciendo como una mujerMás hermosa – más útil – para ti Yet look at her – Blossoming like a womanmore lovely – more useful – for you She Read More
October 3rd, 1873
by River Rivers My ancestors, the Modoc Natives, were colonized. My home is Oregon. My home has a dark-side. After a great battle Captain Jack shot General Canby. For their ‘War Crimes’ four Modoc were hanged. That’s when the spectators took their souvenirs of war. They auctioned off the ropes, strands of hair, and pieces of the gallows. That was Read More
Hurt Comes in Pairs
by Elisabeth Horan 1939 There is a woman of the dirt.And another. Two nudes in the earth. JustMe and my sister. Look how she coilsInto my belly asking for Forgiveness. I like to see her Writhe like a worm, andI step on her Sometimes – to remind Her of her smallness – And how it feels to die. And yet Read More
The Last Waltz
by Steven John We found each other late in life, in the most fateful way. Two lonely people. Paths crossed. ‘The Last Waltz’ she called us. I’d meet her off the train once a month. We’d go to the station hotel for tea and toast to settle jittery tummies. I carried something stronger in a hipflask but she never needed Read More
Leave it for Tomorrow
by Toni G. Maybe my responsibilities will wait forthe rain and not ruin the blue sky of today.I want to stay in and not worry aboutthe many errands that need to be done.I want to fall into an unmade bed, snuggledeep in lukewarm covers. I’ll eatwhen I’m hungry, not the scheduledbreakfast at 7, lunch at 1, and dinner at 8.Allow Read More