There isn’t a code to yell when a 12-year-old tries to commit suicide in his cell. You just yell help.
Read MoreTwo Poems by Emma Murray
People who talk shit about trailer parks / have never listened to the Titanic sound- / track in a double wide—
Read MoreA Man To Occupy My Mind by Elizabeth Morgan
I call them my grown-up friends because these women have translated all of that A-Honor-Roll energy into successful careers as lawyers, engineers, and doctors, while I recently ate more slices of deep dish pizza than my brother and dad combined.
Read MoreJosh & Rach 4ever by Rachel Ratner
Perhaps their bodies sensed the heartache ahead, the disappointment that waited—that they couldn’t hold onto this version of reality. So they let go of it. All over the theater floor.
Read MoreSara Conjures The Devil by Leyna Krow
Sara wished her brother dead. She wished old Pastor Brookes dead as well.
Read MoreThe Height of My Apex by Alex Sagona
Someone shit in the men’s sauna again, and now the entirety of Apex Fitness smells like the aftermath of a ruptured septic tank.
Read MoreSings Herself The Rubble by Lena Khalaf Tuffaha
my heart a greeting / leaves me a stranger
Read MoreConstellation of Memory: An Interview with C.G. Hanzlicek by Christopher Buckley
No emotion recollected in tranquility; it was all heat of the moment.
Read MoreOf Places and Passports by Shazia Rahman
Let me pledge allegiance to the planet. Let me list all the places I love on a passport that actually represents my sense of belonging and identity.
Read MoreHe Was a Friend of Mine by Munib Khan
Murad’s gaze meets Saad’s. Two dozen feet between them. There is no hatred in Murad’s eyes, only pity and kindness, if boys can possess pity and kindness, certainly not desire, and it is not an unforgiving gaze, but that is how Saad will remember it later. He will remember it often, at will, give himself shivers, like reciting a beloved poem. It was love, he will say.
Read MoreLove Nest by Marshall Howell
Lynn met me at the airport, and we took a yellow taxi into Boston and pulled up in front of this dilapidated building on Boylston Street and walked up five flights of stairs. She put a key in the lock and opened the door. “How do you like it?” I put my hands in my pockets so she couldn’t see them trembling and gazed into the tiny room.
Read MoreDaddy by Alex Ebel
Pacing the halls of my house in a pair of penny loafers so dusty they might have been robbed from a grave, I counted on trembling fingers all the ways my night could unfold.
Read MoreGRIEVING MOTHER IS FOUND LIVING WITH CORPSE OF HER DAUGHTER, 47, WHO DIED EIGHT MONTHS AGO Daily Mail July 2 2018 by Katherine Fallon
but have since / come to learn that the body won’t go shrivel up / like a raisin just because you tell it to, and it sure / won’t turn to dust.
Read MoreRedress by Megan Sweeney
To redress: to remedy or set right; to relieve from distress; to make fair and equal; to compensate for wrong or loss. From Anglo-French redresser: to set upright, restore, set straight.
Read MoreHow the Rain Remembers by Shebana Coelho
My curls return in rain and in sudden wind. They returned that day, on the beach, standing beside a sand wall, scooped out by wind. We were on vacation, him from his regular self, and me from the self that pretended he was truly like this.
Read MoreMermaid IPA by Linzy Garcia
I remember even the most beautiful, mystical things still die.
Read MoreHard Salami by Kent Kosack
How am I supposed to know where here is? How does anyone?
Read MoreA Brief Affair by Thomas Cardamone
Every weekday at four PM, a small piece of Paulita Paulo died and went to heaven.
Read MoreWhere I Was From by Steven Moore - Winner of the Bradley & Stucky-French Prize
I live in a college town in western Oregon and lately people here have been talking about their small-town Midwestern upbringing like it was a war they barely survived.
Read MorePhoto of Dr. Harris Mirkin
The Incomplete By Dylan McGonigle
It was at the end of Charlie Chaplin's Modern Times that I'm pretty sure I heard Harris Mirkin crying.
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