Elizabeth J. Wenger when i think of quentin tarantino i think of revenge dressed in tight yellow leather carving a katana through the script. blood squirts like hershey’s syrup from the screen //...
Rebecca Faulkner I am trying to remember — corners of your newspaper curled in a November breeze, mothballs in your herringbone tweed. Stubborn grief, my coat pulled tight....
Rachel RothenbergWinner of the 2023 Greg Grummer Poetry Prize Somerset County, Pennsylvania Half a cow is disappeared from the farm in Berlin, a two-ton Holstein, it makes the paper. Gone the...
Mohamed Morshed Mustafa emerged from the tunnel that led him out of the airplane and stepped into the airport. There were numerous lines of people facing glass booths; he joined the shortest line,...
Jared Povanda When your sister married Charlie, you wanted to punch him. Do you remember the weight of my arms around your middle? That ficus in the huge terracotta pot scratching our faces? The hall...
Leigh Claire Schmidli It’s not often the case, but we’re all hungry for dinner about the same time that night. Me and Anka, my landlady. Her fat-cat Bazo. We collide in the tiny kitchen, circling...
Leslie Doyle My youngest brother, Jim, is looking really weird up there at the altar right now. Rocking on his heels nervously but also yawning like he’s about to fall asleep. As if he’d just...
