Pacifica Issue 9 Cover Art Preview

Issue 01

Issue 09


Ahsan Butt

Majid Uncle

Gen del Raye

A Shark is an Animal That Blushes When You Touch Its Face

Paula Delgado-Kling

A Kidnapping

Rachel Linn



Jake Bauer

A Wedding

Bill Carty

Experiments with Solids, Mutual Fish

Caylin Capra-Thomas


Mackenzie Cole

No Longer

Sarah B. Puschmann

Dear Maraschino Cherry

Maya Jewell Zeller

Black Plastic Night, Self-Portrait With Nudity and False Awakening

2017 Poetry Contest Winners

Alex Bleecker

Today is a 5.

Trinity Tibe



Jean Wolff

Cover Art

Ryan Diaz

Medusa in Paradise


Cade Leebron

Listen, because I’m telling you: snakes abound
around here, kiss you in your sleep. We all eat
a thousand a year without knowing.
We all make noises in our sleep. Snakes listen.
Are you listening? You never look at me,
hand me roses like mirrors, all false reflection.
I’m made of Lace, I’m made of snakes,
or that’s some goddess on TV. I’m following
you with a push-broom, sweeping up your dead
skin-scales. I’m following you on Twitter.
I miss your forked tongue. I miss the way
my toes broke under you, the way you forgot
it in your sleep. I had to tell you. You looked
at the bruises as if they didn’t prove
a thing. As if I couldn’t purple,
as if I’d been stone.




Mia Ayumi Malhotra

You’ll wake to the rattle of porcelain
against rim, turn to unhappy linens:
rumpled pillow, cast-off duvet. Mouth
steeped in bitters, you’ll rise to clear

the bedroom of unhappy linens,
breakfast things: butter pat, tea cozy
steeped in bitters. You’ll rise, clear
the mug with the chipped lip

and other breakfast things. Left
to the cozy tyranny of drying rack,
the mug with the chipped lip
whispers mutiny along its ceramic edge.

The tyranny of the dying wracks
the china saucer, whose cracked
ceramic rim whispers: mutiny.
Silver clamors in the hall cabinet

where china saucers crack and brim
with rumpled silverfish. Their velvet
mouths clamor in the hall cabinet
for your wake, upsetting the porcelain.


The Second Bride


Allegra Frazier

The First Bride didn’t work out, but enough about that.


The Second Bride is provided with everything she needs upon arrival–the correct shoes, coarse soap for her body and soft soap for her face, a booklet of helpful advice, a companion and advisor named Brigita, a private room. The Second Bride has been invited to decorate the private room however she would like. She could send her things from home if she’ll miss them, or get new things. Any new things she wants. She gets new things.

When she arrives her room is set up just as she had specified, though it seems off somehow. She adjusts a dark wooden side table slightly, so it is squarer under the high window, through which she can only see sky. She lifts the front legs of the chaise lounge and tugs the Oriental rug partially beneath it, so that when she sets the lounge back down the rug looks, to her, to be twice as long. She takes the few things she’s brought from home–some of her mother’s jewelry, a small box containing her milk teeth, a slim stack of letters from the man she would have considered marrying if she weren’t The Bride–and tucks them between cushions completely out of sight. Then she rearranges the cushions. Then she rearranges them again. There, she thinks. Now it’s perfect.

To anyone else, I can assure you, the room would look exactly the same as it did before she arrived.


There are rules. There have always been rules, but now there are rules and Brigita.

The Second Bride must never put on or take off her own shoes, because the way one bends one’s body to do so puts pressure on the uterus; Brigita is there first thing in the morning and last thing at night to deal with her shoes for her. The Second Bride must take exceptional care of her teeth, for healthy teeth indicate vitality; Brigita watches her clean them to ensure she does it correctly and frequently enough. The Second Bride’s palms must never be showing when she isn’t using her hands because discipline over one’s hands indicates physical discipline in general; in order to ensure the Second Bride’s hands are rarely in use, Brigita is always there to complete even the smallest task.

Brigita reviews the advice in the helpful booklet as she puts in The Second Bride’s earrings and smooths the creases in her clothing.

“When are you to run?” asks Brigita.

“Never,” says The Second Bride.

“When are you to fight?” asks Brigita.

“Never,” says The Second Bride.

“When may you be alone?” asks Brigita

The Second Bride honestly can’t remember.

“Aside from when The Commander wants your company, you may be alone whenever you’d like,” says Brigita. She smiles and gestures. “That’s what this room is for.”

“Right,” says The Second Bride, wishing Brigita would leave. “Thank you.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” says Brigita.

Continue Reading . . .