Cassie Flint Fancher After three days at sea eating fried food and on-demand ice cream, velcroing seasickness bracelets to our wrists, and wiping our lips on towels folded like swans, my mother...
Jane Feinsod where the head splits open and a goat crawls out. Like it knows something. Takes a tongue to water. Pisses toward Nebraska. Curls into a bushel of honeysuckle. Suspects nothing,...
Hailey June Gross after Jericho Brown and SZA lie by myself at night, let hands trace lips, puzzle- piece together the tips—what i really mean is they dip in my pussy. stop ’em in...
Melissa McEver Huckabay I made her out of confetti and spackle, sawdust, plaster of Paris, blood. Added magazine strips with cut-out words: Willowy. Bright. Christ-like. Glued...
Stefanie Kirby A daughter pops arils into floral stains. Elsewhere: leftover pips solid as teeth, fruit lips curled back in decay. A mouth packed with loss. To be this apathy of...
caroline ganci patterson half of the story i was telling had a moral about perversion, but i leave that part out for the saccharine tongue lickers. i say to my mother, the price of gas on the...
p. hodges adams 2024 Poetry Spring Contest Winner the first hand had square knuckles, like a boy; the second hand could hold a teacup neatly; the third hand was furious. i’m getting ahead of...
Sara Burge down our street screaming, his voice chasing like a pissy wasp. Sometimes he’s an Apache helicopter. Sometimes Baby’s a mouse on a rug. Sometimes their fights are a riff on last...
