Sneha Subramanian Kanta Every journey is a prayer. A pelagic traditionfor the traveler. The wing-field inside a cloud. Ghosts paddle in sphagnum. Fire between sunand hill. Grasslands in the afterglow...
Sasha Tandlich She attacks the shirt with a dull pair of scissors. These are the same scissors she uses for everything: opening packages, cutting green onions, trimming her bangs, holding against her...
Olivia Treynor Fourteen years old and my sister decides she is going to starve herself into the shape of something beautiful. She has not yet told me this is her plan, but from the way she studies...
Susan Grimm How does the body signal its willingness. The returnof muscle swing, the wherewithal for almost bounce. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Stretching the inside stufflike a rusting cord. Full weight on...
Debbie Bateman This is not the first time Pauline’s tried to escape. At seventeen, she ran from her father, taking only what fit in the beat-up Dodge she’d paid for with her own cash. Her clothes...
Kameryn Carter I say Jesus wept in placeof weeping. I say, I wasborn submerged. Proposition:wilted salad in a bag. Corollary:ain’t’a that good news? Today I farewelled my deadin the drive-thru...
Jessica Franken C major: Unsalted. Straight as train tracks. Children’s key. Your niece (six, with a tiny teenager inside) is learning piano, white keys first. If she grows cross, whisper that C...
Meagan Ciesla I wasn’t alone on that long walk when the dog came around the hedge, snarling. My friend was pushing her two-year-old in a stroller, and when she screamed, I thought she was joking...
Fiction North of Wilshire by ISABELLA WELCH Conscience Round by BRENDAN EGAN Secret Workings by DEBBIE BATEMAN Thin Apocalypse by OLIVIA TREYNOR The Cult of the Greater Tuberosity by SASHA TANDLICH...
