POETRY: “Hawk Over Nantasket Beach” by Sarath Reddy
At first my eyes said
a kite hovering a hundred feet above
but there was no thread attached,
no child anchored in sand, arms outstretched,
countering the coastal gale. […]
UChicago's Oldest Literary Magazine
At first my eyes said
a kite hovering a hundred feet above
but there was no thread attached,
no child anchored in sand, arms outstretched,
countering the coastal gale. […]
Deities sat perched on temple parapets,
concrete birds gleaming in the Georgia sun. […]
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 […]
Read More Fiction: “Good Taste” by Dana SchwartzGam 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 […]
Read More Fiction: “Into the Horizon” by Kacy CunninghamAdele 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.
Read More Poetry: “Of the Storm (Sleepless Eye)” by Adele WegnerWard (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 […]
Read More Poetry: “Ward (Ollie/Ali in the Mirror)” by Adele WegnerTerra 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 […]
Read More Poetry: “Terra Firma” by Jessie LiCarrying 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 […]
Read More Poetry: “Carrying Grandfather” by Jessie LiJustified Twitch I made my mind down by the river of euphemism, most playful species of meta -phor. The river ran me round fora for a few years, pebbled my perma -stonedness, taught me to speak with rocks -tarred, defeated eyes minus groupies and the hard stuff. You don’t get it -chy, don’t get soma […]
Read More Poetry: “Justified Twitch” by Max LewinOde to an Oldsmobile My dear boat, your windows are caked with the sticky residue of long since torn-off parking permits. Your right side-mirror dangles by a wire; I see the floppy white ear of a bashful dog. Cassette plastic crunches underfoot, shards of a misplaced Sun-Ra bootleg whose magnetic music once resonated through fragrant […]
Read More Poetry: “Ode to an Oldsmobile” by Max Lewin