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My Cloak of Keys, by Fran Wilde

Most of the newly dead don’t know what they want anymore, and that’s a good thing. But some sure as […]

Death drives a fast car. It’s cream and silver—like a pale horse. When it needs service, she comes here, because

2023 Ignotus Award as Best Foreign Short Story Ocean’s twelfth therapist isn’t fully licensed in the state of Maine. Her

Nothing says Puerto Rican funeral more than milky coffee, hot chocolate, bread, cheese, and stale pastries. Francisco Oller perfectly captured

I died in a tropical rain forest, protesting the logging industry. I didn’t want to die, but I was prepared

(avec mes remerciements à Jacques Prévert) Winter is sitting on a bench. She is not noticed by the people passing,

On a Tuesday afternoon, I was sifted into a terracotta urn hand-painted by my mother. I watched her from the

There is a man on the porch. There is man standing on the porch in the dark, in the rain,

A 2021 Finalist for the WSFA Small Press Award From the Thirty Years’ War, sung as a lullaby to orphans:

My lover is full of holes. I unwrap their bandages and apply fresh unguents and try not to mark the