Fiction
Poetry
Opposable
How do I write with these frantic fingers Left index plugs tearing right aorta Right hand holds closed ripping left ventricle I am hopelessly, entirely
Rachel Salisbury
Poetry
Ca’Venezia: Your Voice
Your voice alights on my armhair, a whiff of cigar smoke— caramel, and ghostly— “Cities die; let them.” Black thing to say. I patter
Robert Eric Shoemaker
Poetry
Auto-crimes
She cornered herself against the shoulders of two meeting walls and wrote her screams into the plaster. The sun was a blade against her skin
Valentina Cano
Fiction
This is What You Do
I stood in my kitchen, hands slightly palsied as I poured myself a glass of water from the sink.
Warren P. Genesis
Poetry
Skirt
I. I see a video of women cycling in short dresses talking of how not to flash. They wide-angled their legs, pull the back of
Rochelle Potkar