Fiction

Fiction

What I Can No Longer See

“I’m thankful I’m not a horse,” Marla says, as she reaches for the saltine sleeve inside her tote bag.

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

Short Story

The Code

Carl didn’t know the code. The timer was ticking, the bomb was going to blow, but he had no idea how to shut the thing

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

Short Story

Lichtenberg Figures

The skin is the largest organ of the human body. It insulates and protects. It contains all we are. Fluids, muscles, tissues and bones, shuddering

Fiction

101

Improv class was how
I learned to say what
I wanted to say to you–