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Pool of Souls
by Madeline Graham It is ninety-five degrees in July and the pool is packed. He stands on the staircase leading into the shallow end, no arm floaties on. We hope that he will be the next to join us. There is the fat backside of an old man in trunks, popping through a too-small innertube floating…
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Happy Garden
by Madison Bakalar Sara first met Dillon at the Chinese restaurant down the block from her apartment. It was a quiet night, rainy. A Tuesday. The windows were greasy from customers perusing the daily specials pasted to the glass. She had seen him before on the street, in passing. He was sometimes on her train…
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In Spite of “Blue Mustang”
by Afton Montgomery Mom was pregnant with me when the Chuck E. Cheese murder happeneddown the street and when “Blue Mustang” was commissionedto whinny in fiberglass at the center of Peña Boulevard by the Denver airport.The horse is the sort of blue the Rockies turn early in the morningwhen there’s still snow in the high…
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Reunion
by Aaron Caycedo-Kimura Just as I remembered—Michelle Pfeiffer eyes, Meryl Streep nose and lips. We sat across the table from each other in a group of theater people. Caliente Cab Co., New York City. I knew you in San Francisco, I said. Explained that years ago, I played percussion for Godspell, the musical you directed.…
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At the End of the Road
by Weston Morrow “You have died…” – Colossians 3:3– Oregon Trail, the video game All my ghosts come back,dying slowly, smoking cigarettesand speaking French. Even the cats,dead this past decade (hawk, car, diabetes)have returned to sleep, curled upin the crook of my knee. And the coyotesmy dad killed last winter tuck their chinsbefore the fireplace.…
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you love me in white underwear
by Alex Baskin our ancestors cut each other’s hair. they knew not of the unisex salon.on your porch, you wrap me in an old tapestry and unsheathe sharp scissors. we are both resourceful and jews. we both love assplay. you grin at me and slant your head.we slant our slantedness, offer it to the world.…
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Sandhogs Local 147
by James Kelly Quigley The loops of razor wirebathed in floodlightsspike you without touching,and up those knee-deep poolswith pneumatic jackhammersyou say the muck’s like soupand the hog says yeah clam chowdernow would you kindly shut the fuck uphose that rebar with the concreteso I can go home and not fuck my wife.He holds court amid…
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To the Bot in Ashburn, Virginia
by Samuel Piccone Data is a precious thing and will lastlonger than the systems themselves.The inventor of the World Wide Web wrote thisin a book with less than ten reviews on Goodreads.Remember the time I googled, “am I being seduced,”after the cute neighbor brushed a mosquito from my armand smiled, “sweet blood?” For weeks, the…
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Love
by Carolene Kurien like a pulled pork fork shreddingevery strand of me to feed an other—my earlobes, someone else’s chew toy,my fingers lollipop someone else’s mouth.I walk through the grocery store, pick outthe freshest deli sandwich for my sister, forgetto buy myself pretzels. My nephew pullson my hair, exacerbating the growing bald spoton my hairline.…
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When the Fog Clears in the Andes
by Alaina Scarano It starts in Peru, in January. It’s the month of rest, of nesting, of resolutions and starting over and dreaming up the new people we can be. I want to be at home on my couch as snow falls out the window behind me. Instead I’m wiping the sweat from between my…
