Fiction

Short Story

There were times when it seemed like all the beauty was sucked out of my life. This was one of them. It was cold and

Allison Whittenberg

Short Story

Three walls of the room are made of tin, but on the fourth side a polished floor opens, running like fabric into curtains of lace,

Rochelle Potkar

Fiction

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

Amy Lerman

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

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

Poetry

Outside my window there is steam
and there are lights in a skyscraper
where people sit at their desks
and the lights let them work.

Alan S. Kleiman