Purchase a copy of 54.1 here Fiction Roadkill by Naomi Brauner Forbidden Fruit by Shreya Fadia Into Each Waiting Pocket by Kindall Fredricks Young Tommy Jones by Grant Jensen Team Player by Shanley...
Brian Woerner I put my bloody tooth on a plate, spin it for luck. If there were two, I could rattle them like dice. I think my tooth is rooting for me. Little compass, I spin it again to commune with...
Katie Jean Shinkle The lights of the carousel blink once twice in distress. You are on main stage dressed in all-black to blend in, to never be seen. Instead, I squirrel you away my...
Rukan Saif The last time I saw my father this close to God was when the doctors cut open his chest and took his heart into their palms and named it lost. So when he declines the call to prayer for...
Mary Maxfield My mother taught me silence like a secret handshake, more muscle memory than vow. When asked about her now, a hush entangles fingers, slaps, knocks fists. I say everything but this. She...
Robert Mata We fished all summer. My father taught me to bait a hook with a worm, then a minnow, then a crayfish. Learning torture like Russian dolls, each body a grosser, wider death. The cooler...
Patrick Kindig The students I teach are more likely to die than most. Horribly & soon, I mean—in battle, or in that skull- numbed moment before. Or simply by a stray bullet skimming the floor...
Korey Hurni The day after his myth began, Icarus had to return to the trophy bar to pick up his credit card. This time molted, reeking of cheap plastic, feeling as though he crashed far out in some...
