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

Short Story

You tell her you love her the day she graduates. It’s a carefree spring morning, the perfect kind for the endurance training you sometimes did—

Natalie Wee

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

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

Fiction

I am in denial. Two pink lines.

Jessica Vergara

Poetry

I’d rather be a collapsed flower drenched in rainwater; succumbed to the well where wishes weld winning whims. though not alone as the barren heart

Dr. Ernest Williamson III