Issue Twenty One

My Spleen Is a Raspberry

His diagnosis was that I lived life like I was preparing to leave it, and his prescription was sesame oil baths. Once a day for fifteen minutes, not while menstruating. Paying special attention to the scalp, ears, and soles of the feet. It didn’t have to be toasted;...

Quiet Rushing

We run, jumping over tree roots, my flip flops sliding on the mossy stones, we run until we reach the clearing, where we lean over, hands on our knees, breathing deeply and you shrug your backpack to the ground, unzip it, and pull out the vodka we stole from your...

Watdozitalmene

When the drug first goes to market people think it’s twee, at best.             “Maudlin medication contends to give us all the answers,” The New York Times writes. “But clever marketing begets major questions of...

Melting Ice

You sit five feet across from your murderess. Your intestines gnarled by decades of emotional constipation bend you chest to knees. At first blush, your asymmetric physiognomy suggests prior stroke. But she clearly knows you have disconnected one side of your brain...

Bird Poem

xThis morning I chased the chickens through the neighbor’s yard and into the apartment complex wearing only my underwear and a hot pink t-shirt. I tucked them beneath my arms, calling them dear heart, sweetling, birdie. xI have called my son Bird since he was born....

The outsider

2016 Sometimes, in this town, I come across a cardigan tied to a traffic light, or a children’s glove slid onto the spike of the fence. A kind person has picked up the lost item and displayed it in this way for its owner to find. Since moving to this new country, I...

Breathing the Ghost

Rebecca Mathias died in second grade. We called her Becky. She had a brain tumor. Our teacher asked if it was ok if Becky sat next to me on the bus on a field trip. Becky laughed too hard—too loud—and she had a runny nose, and she wore leg braces, and she had a rubber...

Blue

Had you been planning it for days? Weeks? Were you waiting for the night when your mom was out visiting Grandma? Why did you not wait for me to sleep? Did you expect me to stop you, find you? Should I have been concerned when you walked down the stairs that night?...

For Molly Young

Listen, when it becomes harder to tell a man that you snore than where to put his dick, when you scroll past the dick pic to scrutinize the baseboards for dirty laundry and dust buffalos, to confirm if there is artwork or photography on the walls, to see if there are...

Orange/Door Hinge

Beneath the Surface Brad digs the hole a bit larger than the length and width his body (six-ish feet deep).  His dog watches from the window, the pane fogging, then clearing, fogging then clearing… Brad puts a ladder in the hole and climbs down, lies face up...

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