Snake Soup by Shem Lim Sijing was hungry. The air was cool and still. She tasted dust, smelled spent explosives. There was ringing in her ears and blood soaking into the fabric of her clothes. She felt no pain, however, and contemplated the arrival of death as she...
You Must Be Present To Win by Carl Page I’m sneaking up on the Bluebird Café, which will be on my right any minute now. I don’t want to get out and just stare at the blue awning and the storefront windows like a gawking tourist or some kind of deranged stalker, so...
Good Girls by Kate Brennan The light outside feels punitive, like a cop flashlight. Or God. Nina laughs when I tell her this later because she doesn’t believe in God. Or cops. I haven’t made up my mind about either one, but I do know that that’s what sunlight feels...
Saving Daylight by Sarah Carson On the drive home from her after-school karate class, mydaughter and I have the windows open for the first time sincethe trees still held their color. The city bus stops are gilded withthe glint that only appears...
HAITI + THE EGG, THE WISH, AND THE RESOUNDING CRACK by Simone Reid HAITI Eleven and all the months were summer The night was a great big bug I swallowed like the woman slipping into my grandfather’s room Everything was a concrete wall and nobody ever...
Nones by Peter Munro Sing when all the horseflies sing of meat. Twitch your skin eleven times and bare for us. When all the air wavers with heat, when all the biters wing- work harmonies and drone as if to declare provender, tell us where. Tell us— we who are here—...
