Anna Potter 1. At sixteen years old, I have “never been kissed,” a phrase I find politically and personally loathsome. I am six feet tall, capable of biking eighty miles a...
Christopher Citro The way you want it is— you hope to be flying then realize you are flying. I’ve eaten blackberries from your hand where they’re warm from July and your hand. I...
Zach Powers He was a little gray moon. Small enough to be held in the palm of one’s hand. But a moon is too heavy for that. He would center his orbit on the object of his attention. He...
Leslie Pietrzyk You really hammer down the nail, my boyfriend says the second he swipes shut this phone call. Thank you? Not a compliment, he says. I arrange a hurt, pouty look on my face, a...
Ira Sukrungruang My father had a porno collection. Because I was alone most of the night—my parents worked the night shift—I was in the habit of snooping through their desks and drawers....
Anne Panning —from my mother: her measuring tape, golden and waxy, spiraled from storage in her sewing basket. It’s a gangly ten-footer, built for quilts and bridal veils; I wear it like a...
Table of Contents Poetry Greg Grummer Poetry Contest judged by Brenda Hillman Winner: Catherine Wagner, “A Funeral Box for Edmund Spenser”, “A Box for Rosemary” Winner:...
Table of Contents Features Patty Summers, “Black America: Coming of Age” Florence Schwein and Jane Anne Gideon, “Plastered Fantasies” Christian Writing Today Fiction Edward P....