Fiction

Poetry

Floral straight jackets hiding women
It’s too pretty to get dirty.

Neth Brown

Poetry

Can’t you let the film spool unseen on the stained floor? Its frames forever static as my fingers resplice our hands. Let my battalions of

Jacquie Wyatt

Short Story

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Focus on this moment. How do I feel? What am I seeing? What am I hearing? Him.

Kristen Spencer

Poetry

She’s lighting a cigarette. The first time pops lost his words, I found her between the legs of a railway, staring at the ocean of

Christell Roach

Fiction

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

James Croal Jackson

Fiction

I have not always had my medication to protect me from epilepsy, to keep my hand steady while I handled boiling grease and kitchen

James A. Corvo