Issue Fourteen

This Boy Can Never Do Anything Right

This boy sends paper airplanes skyward, hoping to touch the moon. They’re fast-devoured by air, dirt, momentum carrying them to crumple. This boy says he’s sorry to people in Walmart before he’s had a chance to brush against them. This boy knocks everything down—full...

To Make A Mountain

She’s planted grass again, your mother. Now she’s lying out there, making angels in bright, green springiness. So you go out too since she’s laughing, since maybe this time she won’t narrow her eyes. It’s warm. Ground under your back, sun behind a cloud so you can...

Still Life with PTSD and Geese

A nurse shoves some papers onto my lap. “These give your permission —” The gurney is surrounded by doctors and nurses wearing pale blue scrubs and masks. I try to sit up. “If…cancer…lymph nodes…permission to remove…” The words brand my brain. The first time I...

Monarch

Let me tell you about loose women, girls on high, groupie runaways and the immaculate mother. In a city of old convents they walk silent in white dresses, the crowd parts, no one asks questions or takes photos but evil tourists like me write poetry. A park with orange...

The Mime Offers His Services

In the spring of 1977, the State Champion Mime receives his trophy. After the applause dwindles he removes most of his make up with Noxzema and tissue. He slips out of his costume, striped-shirt, black pants and bowler into bellbottoms, paisley and platforms. He tucks...

Home Invasion

I saw a huge spider web with a horsefly trapped, unable to get away. I called my friends to come over and see it just above the kitchen window. I dragged a chair over so we could take turns looking at it through my magnifying glass. Mom says the horseflies are...

Some Things Lost

My grandfather gave me a set of monogrammed handkerchiefs for Christmas—I didn’t know what to make of the present, but I loved it. I was six, seven, eight years old. One of those ages from when my memories themselves are clear but unanchored to time. I never used...

Unexpected Guest

When we get back from church, the living room curtains are closed. A vampire is sitting on the couch with the remote, checking out the different channels like he’s never seen cable before. Mámi asks who invited him in. “Not me, it must have been Emily!” Junior says....

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes

I’m glaring at you in the middle of pine-scented nowhere. Did you know I won this trip by memorizing the most Bible verses? I thought one of my prayers had finally been answered. My family wanted to vacation with the Steubens. Their son Kyle was my first gay...

Where Stories Come From

I am trying to think of a story. I do this in a sitting room off our kitchen where a Macbook is on my lap and moving boxes of various sizes lean against the wall. Through the window, I see what my wife calls a fond, a made up word from fake pond, one of those...

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