Fiction

Short Story

That day, Ezzie didn’t fantasize about leaving her husband the way she did every other day of the week, which when calculated, amounted to five

Kim Kolarich

Poetry

Crying, I recall my father shudders, remembering tall thin men at the foot of the bed apparitions at night, faceless heads like pins, mostly arms,

Robert Eric Shoemaker

Fiction

I am in denial. Two pink lines.

Jessica Vergara

Fiction

How do you photograph silence? Is it represented by an empty room? A sleeping baby? A seascape?

Constance L. Lieber

Poetry

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

Poetry

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