Poetry: “Tea” by Ken Haas

We went to London once a year and, aside from conjugate acts in wayward places, there was one thing she loved doing in that conurbation only, made personal by her novel use of accoutrements (strainer, drip tray, sugar tongs, cozy) and especially how the milk was introduced— smallest possible liquid dollop that pricked the fuscous […]

Poetry: “First Word” by Gavin Corey

My parents tell me I was some months old when My first word ticked out: “Clock.” Since then, Two faces Glare back at me In the mirror.

Poetry: “Pigeons” by Gavin Corey

Under sleepy awnings and overpasses, Pigeons huddle in groups of grays and blacks. Some bob over gum-stained slabs Shot white with shit. All good cities Are bad cities.

Fiction: “Good Taste” by Dana Schwartz

In the bedroom of a small apartment outside Kielce in Poland, a man named Gustaw Smolak had a heart attack just as his wife left to get groceries in their olive green Camaro. The Smolak family lived on the second floor of a building that had been redecorated so many times by its tenants over […]

Fiction: “Into the Horizon” by Kacy Cunningham

Gam never cuddled or cooed. She didn’t linger or inquire or speak of love. She had suffered the loss of her husband over two decades ago and, though they hadn’t laughed often, when they did, it was deep and hearty. Gam smothered bread with butter and piled ham high between the white, buttery slices, serving […]

Poetry: “Of the Storm (Sleepless Eye)” by Adele Wegner

Adele Wegner was born in Youngstown, Ohio and lives in Chicago. She is a writer and artist and works in the field of psychology and mental health. Her poems have been published in Columbia Poetry Review and Burningword.

Poetry: “Ward (Ollie/Ali in the Mirror)” by Adele Wegner

Ward (Ollie/Ali in the Mirror) The doctors are filling out paperwork. Their notes, translations of our original words, are mangled into the computer system. And later extracted, pulled from an ear onto the torn red sofa, spluttering. Someone said, “You are not authorized to make these changes.” Behind closed doors. Coordinates align—and click—beginning to uncoil […]

From the Archives: “The Architect’s Wedding” by Samantha Stiers

The Kremlin’s silks billowed around my husband’s legs like hot air balloons. I came gowned in Taj Mahal, still pools reflecting my glide down the aisle. The bedchambers in my depths glowed like jewels while inside my groom, a general slipped poison into the prime minister’s vichyssoise. The pyramids of Giza looked delicious on the […]

Poetry: “Terra Firma” by Jessie Li

Terra Firma For my grandmother, who could no longer speak, I made this prayer: for the voice inside her to beat like the earth, like the tulips outside her window, swelling with life. For her to call me once more to water the young bulbs together. Instead, my grandmother curled into herself, wanting nothing but […]

Poetry: “Carrying Grandfather” by Jessie Li

Carrying Grandfather I didn’t know you, except once, when I visited, and you peeled those Chinese pears for me – slinking the dulled, rusted knife across the skin. You smiled, I smiled. I counted your freckles, their withered yellow, like faded marigolds. I remember wanting to touch your aged, leathery skin. Later, I didn’t know […]