Like a Surgeon, With Her Teeth, by Erik Amundsen
When she was three, they left;oak-leaf leather hugged the walls,and her finger, sore, turned red,turned black, the green.The woods brushed […]
poetry
Did God shrink from Adam so, when the dust settled?, by Kristin Fullerton
Daydreams, fervent and vivid ofdesolation, beauty, delight.How heavily my bodyis anchored, how listlessmy shadow passes over cold, famished streets. I
Caught by her Red-Stained Hands, by Claire Smith
The red juice incarcerated her;stained fingertips were her judge;her lips dribbled with pomegranate seeds,the jury delivering its guilty verdict. My
On the Möbius, by Carlos Hernandez
I won’t resist. I know I can’t.I’m statue-still. I’m scentless.Take a whiff. There’s nothing leftof mind, or fear, or promises.
Moonwalk on A Night Sky, by Nwuguru Chidiebere Sullivan
You like me when I smell like the moon, glazedwith gunpowder & November dust. Look at the galaxies—a canopy
The Sausage Makers, by Amelia Gorman
A red brick box that smells like smoke,meat, and blood. The institution whereall your grandmothers’ grandmotherslearned their cuts on the
Dead Man’s Session, by John Paul Davies
The dead man takes a drinkbut the glass cuts his lips.Drink slits his throat,seethes in his stomachlike a molten
The Plutocracy, by Maya Chhabra
i’d rather be a pauper on earth than king of the dead,you said, and you were right:life above is pauper-likecompared
Seven Things You Have Helped Me to Remember, by A.L. Blacklyn
1. This quill, the first item I can pick up using some memory of hands. 2. Hands: two with four
Rows of Houses, by Leah Bobet
when her heart beat, I was home, and nothingneeded changing. the clouds retched sunlightthrough the halls; she threw the blinds