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Vestige
By Cami DuMay You write what you need to. Once, when I was a kid, I saw a carcass in the woods,back behind my house. A deer collapsed in the humus,her skull still partly clothed in tawny fur, eyeless sockets,holes so black I felt myself pitching into their gravity. Here, a leg, and there, white…
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On Engagement
by Meredith MacLeod Davidson In the 1640s, two definitions of the verb engage branched from its etymology tree. The first: engage (v.) – “to attract and occupy the attention of”The second: engage (v.) – “to enter into combat or contest with” At nineteen, I had logins on many major image-hosting or sharing sites: Flickr, Imgur,…
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INCANTATION
by G.H. Plaag for Aiden Hale Tennessee rain is like the dewon a plum. whether you are clingingto the cliffs of Chattanooga or antiquingin Elizabethton, this holds true.today’s rain is the freezerburnon a Hungry-Man, ruinous and specific,shards in mashed potatoes. the rainfalls and reminds me where i amand what has happened here this year. Tennessee…
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My Mother & I Put Our Differences Aside to Poison Benjamin Netanyahu’s Fish Tacos
by Ivy Raff You mean you could poison anyone on earth& you didn’t choose me? Her mouth an O.She wasn’t wholly wrong: temptation it wasto flick a grain of cyanide salt at its center. We got bigger fish to fry, ma. She didn’tlaugh at the pun. I sprinkledthe poison into the batter. Adjusted my KN-95against…
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Afghan Girl
by Caroline Fleischauer Amid a sea of tents slips a White man holding a camera. It’s 1984 and the camera—a Nikon FM2 with a Nikkor 105mm Ai-S F2.5 lens—is powerful enough to share grief between one side of the world and the other. The tent village sits across Pakistan’s border with Afghanistan, near Peshawar. The…
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We Always Speak The Language of Colonisers
by Sher Ting Hinomaru. What’s mine is yours.All this earth and the blood raised on it.Kimigayo. How language becamea man with a trigger. And when I spokeabout grief, there was another warm bodyto pull from the dead. When we pronouncedKako (the past), we took only the lettersfrom our history. The o to mark the pointof…
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A Brief Alteration of Color
by Sarah Horner / hunger / taste / bruise / build/ ease / rest / dawn The sun is round. The sun is round warm gentle lightAt dawn. I look right at it. You wake up slowlyYou wake up slowly You wake up slowly / bloom Crack a window. Let the breeze meet Last night’s love-air / decay…
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The Dream Men
by Rebecca Bernard In my dreams, the boys love me. Our hands furious against one another’s sides. Often, there’s little fruition, only build up. Usually, I’m still married, but I’ve discovered a loophole that allows for each fleeting tryst, guilt-free. A sundae with whipped cream and two cherries. I call them boys, but they’re men, of…
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The Lungs Remember Breath
by Aliyah Cotton It was hopscotch and scraped knees yellow monkey bars and hands rubbed raw hands that knew exactly the weight of a pinecone and what it meant to the fallen thing to be noticed and held and thrown back down again and it was not caring that the grilled…
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Explaining White Privilege to My Ancestors
By Kimberly O’Connor it does not meanyou didn’t drive the muleup the mountain every morning it does not mean the outhousewas a pleasure it does not mean you had enough to eator that you grew up easy that no one ever looked at yousideways and mean-eyedthat you didn’t carry water from the spring it does…
