by Hannah MacAfee She stretched out and tried to recapture that multi-layered furnace between her legs, but it wasn’t working, it was dead. She said nothing as she lowered her extended leg back down and tried to occupy her mind with anything else besides the bag of chips that sat opened in her pantry. Eventually, … Continue reading Home Repairs
I have no time by Rebecca Ruth Gould
to cover up and correct the unfortunate crack in the window that exposes my nude body. Sorry, construction worker, You’ll have to control your gaze. This is my home.
I will enjoy my nakedness
any way I please.
by Rebecca Ruth Gould The girl who invited me to live in her tent camp so she could teach me Chechen sat staring in the corner, fearing that any motion might trigger an explosion. Grozny’s flats were levelled. Dolls lay disembowelled on the floor. Glass shards covered the earth. The road’s yellow ribbon rolled like … Continue reading Gronzy
by Kathleen O’Neil That strip of cloth is mordant red. I’d wrestle it, but who wants to be alone? Such a deceptive slip of cloth laid out over velvet cream skin. My little amoret. Touches you lay over yourself say it all. It’s autonomous, a cryptex of brocade and cambric and tells me your fears. … Continue reading Possessive
Memories by Kathleen O’Neil
This translucent organza covers my skin like snow;
the innermost part of me is burning away. It just smolders. Oxygen, the air, it’s everywhere. The cold poison will seep down through soft delicate shoulder, under the left collarbone edge through bone and the shield of muscle.
Objects in the Overhead Bin May Shift During Travel by Alexandra Morean
Alexandra Morean is currently getting her BA in writing, editing, and publishing as well as music production. She was born in Venezuela and grew up in Miami, Florida, soaking in all kinds of culture and inspiration. Alexandra hopes to connect with her readers on a spiritual level and provide comfort and aid to those who relate with her work. Continue reading Objects in the Overhead Bin May Shift During Travel
The Burial by Ally Schwam
While I eat breakfast, a mourning dove
slams into my window,
trades her life for a crack in the glass. Continue reading The Burial
Mourning by Stacey Z Lawrence
Yet deep within this dire stirring,
I still curl near you,
atop worn velvet couch, pull
piles of pillows below our feet Continue reading Mourning
by Stacey Z. Lawrence He is eleven, almost a manwhen the belt’s buckle catchesunder his skin.As usual hegrips the kitchen sinkstares at the faucet dripas she whips.He never cries, but this timebloody puddles stainhis white socks, the canvasof his Converse,gore trickles down his leg.She places it on the counter,bits of his ass impaledupon sharp metal … Continue reading Belt
by Ally Schwam I created the rain. It’s one of the first things I created. Two years ago I started as an assistant at the Creation Center and then a year later got promoted to junior programmer. The first task I got was to program what a higher-up called “rain.” Rain was just water that … Continue reading God & The Invention