Moonlit wolf standing, alert, in a green meadow.

This I Know by Julie Woodward

November 16, 2022

My headlights are on. They carve small spaces into the night. I want to shed this skin and curl myself into their void. I want to tuck myself into their cold. I want to be consumed by their nothingness. I want to be swallowed whole, too.

Night time, a police car with its blue lights alight on the roof of the car.

The Night’s Not Finished, but It’s Leaning Against the Wall by Taylor Collier

November 16, 2022

All/ day you’ve been plunking rusted metal / into your purse, and I never stopped to / ask what you really wanted

A foggy nature scene: trees and a stony creek.

Up Brown Jug Creek by Catherine Halley

November 9, 2022

Of course, this isn’t the witch-thick forest you read about in a fairytale. I am surrounded by green, fast-growing trees and shrubs—buckthorn and black locust and honeysuckle—relentlessly spreading along the banks of the stream. The trunks bow out over the water and form a canopy of shade.

An adult's pair of hands and one child's hand. They are manicured, and wearing rings.

Three Poems by L Favicchia

November 9, 2022

"i hold a tissue paper body/ as long as i can, / or until i must exhale."

Image of two people's legs, one person in black tights and high heels and another beside them in floral pants and sneakers. There is gold confetti on the wood floor.

Movie Stubs by Sophia Veltfort

November 9, 2022

In the weeks leading up to my friend’s wedding, instead of studying for the GRE, I’d made mental tallies of people I dreaded but could reasonably expect to see in Poland.

Memory/Movie by Jason Sepac

November 9, 2022

How much have I spliced into my memory?

Left: Talia Lakshmi, smiling, wearing hoop earrings and a purple and white scarf. Her shirt is green. On the right: Cover of book, "What We Feed To The Manticore." Title in bold, black letters. Illustrations of blue tiger, roses. Background, yellow.

A Normal Interview with Talia Lakshmi Kolluri by Samina Najmi

November 2, 2022

I have always come to both reading and writing from a somewhat genderless space. What I mean is that both writing and reading have been mechanisms for me to try on different lives and experiences.

A child's hand holding a crayon as they color on a page. A glass full of coloring crayons sits beside their hand.

First Story by Sarah Gambito

November 2, 2022

"What do you say to someone who has been gone for so long."

Image of a red helium balloon heart against a white background. A white woman's arm holding it in frame.

A Longer and Slightly More Complicated History of Her Heart by Mary Jones

November 2, 2022

She thought she knew of everything that could happen to the human heart, it seemed most of it had happened already to her mother.